Setting my intention

One of my favorite rom-coms from the early 1990s is a little-known film called “Prelude to a Kiss,” starring a luminous Meg Ryan at her quirkiest and a young, handsome Alec Baldwin before he developed a reputation as a narcissistic asshole.
 
It’s basically a body-swapping fantasy, in which Rita (Ryan) gets a kiss from an elderly stranger at her wedding at the precise moment they each wish they were old/young. Hijinks and hilarity ensue as Rita’s soul in the old dude’s body spends most of the movie trying to convince her new husband, Peter (Baldwin), that it’s really her under all that saggy skin and ear hair.
 
When Rita and the old man finally switch back to their own bodies at the end, he says, “Can I give you two a piece of advice? Floss.”

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When I first heard that in the movie theater in 1992 at age 20, I was all, “Whatever.” Now, at 47, I have a sincere appreciation for what the old dude was saying. What he meant was, “Take care of your body now so you can minimize its inevitable betrayal later.”
 
I feel that deep down in my bones today. While my teeth are still in pretty good shape, the rest of me is falling apart. Sometimes just standing up too fast is enough to lay me out for a couple days. For real, tho.
 
Don’t worry, I’m not going to spend 800 words bitching about middle age, though by God, I totally could. No, what I want to talk about is how getting older, and the various physical ailments and limitations that come with it, has made me realize I have to live with intention to get the most out of it.
 
In other words, I gotta get my shit together before it’s too late.
 
I’ve been working on living a more purposeful life in fits and starts for the better part of a decade, starting around the time I quit drinking alcohol in 2009. I stepped it up a notch when I launched my own consulting business in 2012. But y’all, I’ve really elevated my game in the past couple of years.
 
To me, living with intention means making deliberate choices about how I want to exist in the world and taking action to achieve specific goals. Like I said, I’ve done that in one-off situations for a long time, but it’s never been an overarching theme in my life until recently.
 
I want to do better and be better, but more than that I want to live better during the second (hopefully) half of my life.
 
What’s made the biggest difference in getting my entire “self” centered has been bringing daily meditation into my life. Now people, I am by far no Zen master who can empty her mind of all thoughts and achieve an hour of nirvana.
 
We’re talking 10-15 minutes at best, and my mind is bouncing around like a toddler with ADHD who’s had too much sugar and missed her nap. For me, it’s about observing my thoughts without judgement as they pop up, then gently lassoing my brain back to the present moment, all the while trying to concentrate on my breath, a tension-releasing body scan or a repeated mantra.
 
It is not sophisticated or perfect by any stretch, but Lordy, what a difference it has made. Life is simpler and calmer when I regularly meditate.

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Around the same time I started meditating, I began to see everything in my life with more clarity. As a result, I felt empowered to start making bigger changes.
 
I paid off all my credit card debt. I visited the desert in New Mexico and booked a bucket-list trip to Ireland. I asked a woman I love and respect in the recovery community to mentor me and guide me to the next level of spiritual connection (it sounds a lot more woo-woo than it actually is, I swear.)
 
Then, a few months ago, I got out of the habit of meditating. I can’t pinpoint exactly why. My best guess is that I was going through a period of self-sabotage.
 
We all do that from time to time. There’s some part of us that doesn’t want to heal or isn’t ready to let go of old, comfortable behavior, so we do what we’ve always done. It’s a sucky place to be.
 
Anyhoo, I started meditating again a few weeks ago, and while it’s definitely messy as hell because I am so out of practice, it’s already doing its job by getting me centered again.
 
The biggest benefit so far is that it’s motivated me to be more intentional about my physical health — and not just for vanity’s sake, which has always been my main impetus in the past. I want to feel my best, not just fit back into my favorite jeans. I want to be strong and healthy enough to hike in Arizona and take a solo trip to Greece. I want to live to meet my grandchildren, assuming my 24-year-old son ever gets his shit together.
 
But I digress.
 
I’m starting a clean-eating diet and workout plan in a few days that’s got me only slightly more excited than scared, but I’ve learned from experience to temper my expectations.
 
No matter how much weight I lose or how hard I work out, I will never be as svelte and healthy as a woman 20 years younger. It just ain’t happenin’ folks. Gravity is not a middle-aged woman’s friend.
 
I have to admit, a lingering sense of regret is tripping me up a bit. Why, oh why, didn’t I take better care of myself in my 20s and 30s? Not only did I suck at flossing, I smoked, drank, ate whatever I wanted and only got off my ass if someone was chasing me.
 
Just like today’s impertinent little whippersnappers, I thought I was invincible. If a wizened version of myself had time-traveled back to 1992 and told me to stop abusing my body, I would have told her to fuck right on off.
 
No matter. Regret won’t change the past. If sobriety has taught me anything, it’s that all I have is today.
 
Living with intention means being mindful, and mindfulness keeps me in the here and now. So right now, please excuse me while I empty my kitchen of crackers and cookies and chips (oh my!), then hop on the treadmill.
 
And later, when I brush my teeth, you can bet your ass I’ll floss.

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