Today my grandmother was moved into the alzheimers unit.
Today, I honor the births of babies into the families of my close friends.
Today, I honor the passing of a friend's sister.
Alan Watts asked, "What would it be like to go to sleep and never wake up?... What would it be like to wake up, after never having gone to sleep?"
I'm not normally one to dwell in the realms of mortality, but today it is present. It is something perhaps I have become numb to, what with the daily barrage of death tolls in the media and the cold, rational way we "deal" with the cycle of birth and death in our society. There is little in the way of honoring its spiritual significance as we observe the cycle, refusing to acknowledge that we, too, are a part of its spinning way.
A friend likes to remind me, "We will all die."
And it's true. So with that as a given, and an unknown at the same time, how I choose to walk through this leg of the journey is all that matters in this moment. Whether I see it as a fire of transformation, a dance of unfolding, the ecstasy and the heaviness and the laughter and the tears...
Presence seems like the only option.
I will check out of this physical realm someday. But while I'm here, I'll focus on being fully... here. Do the things I mean to do. Not wait until tomorrow, or next week. I will take risks. I will fall in love. I will fight for what I believe is right. I will worry less about how much money I will have when I'm 70. I will tell people I love them a whole lot more. And I will listen to, and trust, the wisdom of my wise, brave, tender heart.
My commitment to being fully alive, on this rainy, cold day.