The 10 Year Plan

Posted on August 27, 2018


About 18 months ago, LBL looked around and wondered where various members of her family had gone to in the last five years or so. Based on their departures, as well as the ages at which her parents and other assorted family members departed, LBL calculated that she, herself, had about 10 years left to wreak havoc on this planet. For this reason, she declared a 10 Year Plan.

“Hold your horses!” she is hearing some of you saying. Or “Whoa doggies!”  for some who prefer canines to equines. Or even “Let’s put a kibosh on this!” for those of you who know what a kibosh is. Why would you put a time limit on your life? Don’t you want to live forever?  Isn’t this going to hex you in some way?

The answers are No, she isn’t. No, she doesn’t. No, it won’t. The 10 Year Plan is a plan, not a fortune-teller prediction.  There have been many famous plans throughout history (China, the Third Reich, Trump’s intention to resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, etc). Some have actually exceeded the years projected. Some have fallen a bit short. Some have never occurred. The plans simply set a framework for decision-making.

In LBL’s case, as soon as she established a 10 Year Plan, she was beset by a sense of euphoria. Ten years.  That’s a Really Big Deal. What would those ten years look like?  What would she be capable of? The sense of anticipation was almost overwhelming.

She is here to report that she is a little over one year into her 10 Year Plan. And it has been amazing. She has said “Yes” to opportunities she might have rejected in the past. She has said “No” to obligations she would have accepted out of guilt.  She has shed her need to finish every single book she starts, even if the book really sucks.

She went to Poland, a country that would have previously found no space on her bucket list, even if the bucket had been the size of Ohio. Last week (drumroll, please) she went on a Ferris wheel for the first time in her life. For those creepy little anal folks who like to split hairs, she will admit it was an “observation” wheel, meaning that if she had stood up during the ride (instead of sitting quietly and clutching the sides of the bench) she wouldn’t have been thrown into space, like on the rickety old Ferris wheels that populated her childhood nightmares.

She experienced a rocket simulator and a leapt off a cliff in a virtual reality helmet.  She went to Bahrain (It’s an actual country in the Middle East) during Ramadan in 108 degree weather. She invested in crypto-currency, which is the equivalent of skiing blindfolded.  She has thrown out precious mementoes because she knows her kids will not want them. She has cut down the massive bush in her backyard that she always hated but was afraid to cut down.  She no longer fears landscaping.

She can go on and on. The point is that her intention is to make these ten years exciting, terrifying, expansive and delusional when that is needed to move her forward.

LBL knows, of course, that no life plan can account for illness, accident, random life events, political upheaval, or the demise of the planet. It’s a plan, Folks, a framework. The Plan, like the Beat, goes on.

Some of you have asked about rock climbing or skydiving or eating dinner suspended in mid-air or that activity where you sit in a giant ball and roll down a big hill.  Those are part of the 11 Year Plan, so LBL doesn’t have to worry about that.  That’s included with yoga and forgiving the GOP.

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