Trying Not to be Morbid, But...

I think about the passing of time these days. Birth, aging, death. I think about it a lot, actually.

I'm not focused on one particular aspect, like my own mortality, for instance, but the entire kaboodle. Birth to death. And what it means to be in between the two. I've had lots of inspiration to direct my thinking, some instances that affected me more deeply than others. For instance, my sweet kitty Brandy, died in my arms in April. I watched a suffering cat's face become peaceful and I swear I could see the life leaving her body. Amid my grief, it was an amazing experience.

Brandy's death was a spiritual kick in the pants to appreciate what I have. The day after she was put to sleep, I remember sitting on my back patio, with my other cat, Phebe, lying on a blanket in the sun, a little grief-stricken herself. The sun hit my face and a cardinal landed in a nearby tree. And I thought, "I'm alive. This is what matters most."

So what happens in between this realization and death? Do I create a bucket list (or conversely a f*ck it list like I wrote about last year)? Do I skydive, bungee jump and orgify myself towards death?

...yes, I just made up a word, but I think you get the idea...

The answer is none of the above. Really.

CBS Sunday morning did a story a while back that featured people who surpassed the 100-year mark. Did they bungee jump or dance naked in the rain with a bajillion people? Did they travel the world or meet with foreign heads of state? Were they even on their city council?

Nope.

But they didn't stop living. One gentleman was a scientist and still went to work. One lady showed the reporter all of her paintings. It's proof positive that you shouldn't "retire" when you hit retirement age. Here's one extreme example: whatever you think about her, Joan Rivers at 77 may look like a Barbie version of herself, but she's still working and making people laugh.

I got the image here

There's loads of other examples to prove that in order to live a fulfilling life, you have to LIVE it--don't step back and judge it, thinking that there's a legacy you must leave to the masses, just wade into the mire and happiness and dive in. And while you're living your life, you won't notice so much that perhaps your hair gets a little thinner or your stomach ain't as flat as it used to be.

Not that I would know ANYTHING about that.

Thanks, Tonya!

As you go through the everyday routine, brushing your teeth, feeding your kids, taking out the garbage; as you hear disappointing news, lose the race, get your heart broken, keep in the back of your head that You. Are. Alive. I know there's going to be times when that will not be sufficient--that's also part of life. But if you've got a grey cloud floating above your head on a sunny day, know that it sure as heck could be a lot worse. If you don't believe me, take it from someone who knows, someone not with us anymore, but who expressed it far better than I just did. (Thanks to Patti Digh and friends, who pointed me the way to this awhile back.)

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