I am transfixed by Diana Nyad's massive accomplishment: swimming from Cuba to Florida. In her 60s. After four other attempts, all of which were unsuccessful (by some measure; to me even ATTEMPTING such a feat is a success).
There will be a documentary about her journey (The Other Shore, available for preorder now) which I intend to watch. But for now, I'm just letting the existence of this event sink in.
I've just come up for air myself. I've been almost completely offline while in the Northern California redwoods with my daughter at a fiddle camp. I got to spend the week with people — many Ms. Nyad's age and older — learning to play the fiddle, some for the first time. A week with people who are willing to carve out seven days (and many more dollars) just to learn.
Nobody told them that thing about old dogs and new tricks.
Supposedly, this camp was for my daughter — she's the fiddle player, not me. There were plenty of kids there as well. But while she was fiddling, I was paying attention to role models…people 10 and 20 years older than me having a blast pushing themselves, reconnecting with old friends, making new ones. There were classes and dances and skits and banquets and pranks and costumes and happy hours. And so many stories about lives changed by music.
But you have to be open to that change, don't you? You have to be willing to entertain it. To create space for it. To make room for remarkable. (I read that in a book.)
The new school year begins on Wednesday for my kids. Time to set my own sights a little higher. Or, perhaps, a little farther.
Thanks to Rana DiOrio for passing along this image. The film's producers, Ketchum Labs, passed it on to her, and it just felt like the right image to share today.