Van Gogh didn’t start painting until he was 27.
After three fantastic days in Amsterdam, including perhaps the best day ever complete with finding amazing boots just my size in a vintage shop when I had worn a hole in my old shoes (talk about the Universe rising up to meet your feet), it is my time in the temporary home of the Van Gogh collection that is still swirling in my brain.
Vincent didn’t start thinking about creating a life as a painter until he was 27. I have a particular affinity for this factoid as I had my own little life revolution at the same age. Yet, more largely, it says: It is never too late to start.
Perhaps it screams it.
It is never too late to start on your path to greatness.
Don’t think you have time? Vincent’s entire oeuvre? 10 years. And he considered most of that “practice.”
What is your soul screaming out to do?
Don’t know? That is ok. Painting was Van Gogh’s 3rd attempt at a life.
The important part is the starting.
I’ve met so many who have expressed regret at not studying abroad, not traveling, not switching careers, not moving to a new town, not trying that unknown place (even the one down the street!), not reinventing into a different path. They are seeped in regret and sadness. Lett ing “not” to rule is the the surest way to unhappiness.
I’m also loving this quotation these days: If you want what you’ve never had, try what you’ve never done.
Why not pull a Vincent and dare to do differently?
Pick up your proverbial brush and begin.
Be IN always,
PS – I’m writing between catnaps on a train from Berlin to Prague. Perhaps it is my belly happy with fantastic Tibetan food, but train travel seems to suit my go-go soul. Undaunted by a much improved but still healing smile , I took off from Florence for the fall break with my EuroRail pass and only a vague plan for the week. It has been a pleasant blur of perfection.