What's at the top of the endless list?

I just want to be on the water every day. Maybe I should have joined the Navy.

As I look over my misspent life — in those moments when it feels like I’ve had a misspent life — I can come up with a long list of things I wish I had done, and nagging regrets about the things I did.

Some of these things are impossible to do anything about (damn biological clock), but some of them are things I can begin to resolve today, if I would stop being so morose.

I’m not talking about the bucket list. A a bucket list is so specific and goal-oriented that it would probably just make me feel worse in sad times to create one. And bucket list items don’t seem to resolve present and past feelings; it seems that they are oriented more toward avoiding additional regrets. After all, if these are the things we’re going to do before we die, then shouldn’t I put skydiving on there, even though I’ve never wanted to do it? And visiting every continent? And running a marathon? Things start to get arbitrary, completist, and a bit performative.

No, what I’m referring to here is the vague, unfinished hopes and dreams by which we measure the life we’ve lived thus far against the life we hoped we’d have. The wistful feeling of wanting to travel more, wanting to paint more, read more, write more, make music more, spend more time with certain people. The overwhelming sense that we’re too late to start a business, a hobby, a family. This list is designed to never leave us alone.

For a long time, international travel was at the top of my list. I had always assumed that it was too time-consuming and expensive. I felt like I needed someone’s permission. However, a few years ago, I decided to question my assumptions. I started looking at flights, train timetables, and accommodations. I realized that I had enough airline miles to get a free ticket, and I booked the first of several solo international trips. It was far more doable than I had thought.

These days, it’s songwriting. I wrote songs obsessively in my teens and twenties, and pretty much stopped completely when my growing business began to capture most of my creative energy. And often, recently, I’ve been wanting to do something about that.

So a few days ago, I started writing songs again. No big decision, no big social media post, no rules. It was simple: “You want to write songs? So write songs.” Just sitting down for a few minutes every so often to create music is enough right now to quiet the voice in my mind that would otherwise be telling me that I’m wasting my precious life. It’s an unbelievable relief.

I’m sure that, as I settle into a routine with songwriting, something else will rise to the top of the endless list. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I can think of that list as guidance from my higher self, gently (and sometimes boldly) encouraging me to be the person I want to be and have the life I want to have. I don’t need to fear that voice or hide from it; instead, I might actually listen to it.

Do you have a voice like this in your head? What is it saying to you? Is it helping you? What is one small action you could take this week to move your life into greater alignment with what you want most?