I woke up this morning with a piece of music in my head. From 1972! Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, I rolled over and simply said “Alexa, pay Focus 3”

There in the early morning darkness accompanied by the sound of the rain I was transported back to the age of 13 when listening to this track was a whole lot more complicated than a vocal instruction. Progress huh? But oh, the power of music. I am listening again as I write this.

My 13-year-old self was a bit of a mess really. She was unsure, lacked confidence, was full of good ‘ole teenage angst and scared of everything. Filled with unrequited passion for something. She had no idea what, she just knew that there was something, somewhere, just for her.

There was burning hope in her heart that it would find her somehow. It was to be a very long time before she truly found her way and there was to be a lot more angst and many mistakes. But also, moments of pure and unadulterated joy. Life as we know it.

I am sure that many of you remember that feeling. Caught up in the mess of teenage hormones, unsure of who you were, what you wanted, craving love and recognition but also wanting to hide away as you adjusted to the changes happening to your body, and everything expected of you as you transitioned into adulthood.

Music was and often has been, my salvation. I started collecting vinyl at the age of 13 – my first album was The Moody Blues, On the Threshold of a Dream. With hindsight how appropriate was that?I have found comfort and courage and inspiration from music whenever I have needed it. It is my “go-to”.

I am in the third week of a course with Michael Neil called Fearless Living. An exploration of Fear and whether it is possible to live, love, and work from a space beyond fear. Yesterday I suddenly saw how much of my life has been driven by imagined futures. I have spent so much time and energy dreaming about how various scenarios might play out – fearful and worried. Or looking back with regret for things I did or did not do.

What if I had put that much effort into the present moment? They say that “Life is too short to wake up with regrets”. But this morning in that dark bedroom I shed a few tears for time wasted. For that 13-year-old me who craved something so fiercely but was too caught up in fear of the unknown to stride out strongly. Who would nearly always choose the hardest route because she thought that suffering was the way forward. Because that was how it was supposed to be.

Last week I said to Nigel that I wished I had known how great the seventies were when I was living in them. Of course, every decade has its drawbacks, and we always look back with our rose-coloured spectacles on.

Recently I have slipped back into some fearful imaginings around my physical health and the effects of the pandemic. But I can see how quickly I set those fears to one side. No longer is it a case of “feel the fear and do it anyway”. Its more “Yeah, it’s a bit scary, take a breath, get on with it”.

Now, nearly 50 years later I think I have finally learned to live in the now. To appreciate the present. It’s pretty nice here.

But for now…”Alexa, take me back to the seventies…just for a little while”