Three things I'd like to learn:
When to trust history and when to acknowledge that each situation is unique. I know this story. I know how it ends. There is truth in the condemnation of Santayana, but it's almost satisfying to feel it click into place, that conclusion, the dream or nightmare come true. Or on the other hand: be here now, let this moment be exactly this moment; stop pre-judging.
When to push and when to forgive myself. I hate social gatherings, hate leaving the comfort and security of my home at all times and even more in the winter. On the other hand, some of the deepest experiences and most interesting people of my life were on the other side of that door. It's good to go out, to go beyond comfort, to introduce myself to people, new flavors, icy-cold rivers, both for the pride in my own bravery and (more importantly) for the chance to experience wonder. On the other hand, some nights out send me to days in bed, burned fingers and eyes raw from exhaustion, and when I feel that coming it is just better for everybody if I bolt the door, get under the blankets with a book or a TV binge and recharge. It's just so hard to know which gut feeling to trust.
When to walk and when to stay. The older I get the more I am persuaded that the moment I think I should walk I should just walk. Because if I walk and I am wrong, I won't know it: walking carries me to a new place and I rarely want to go back once I get out. But if I stay and I am wrong: vinegar and salt, all the things I might have stayed for turned bitter and sad. There are times I stayed when I should have run and I know that because I stayed. Still, how can you know you have sucked the marrow out of life until you put the bone in your mouth?
I'd also like to learn how to paint my nails without getting nail polish all over the place, to wear skirts, and to play the ukulele, but you know, one thing at a time.