Begin Living It

Unpeel your dream 
from the center
where it lives.
step inside
and begin living it. 

-Sark

Good With My Time Here

Sam was out running with her dog when she came upon a small tree that had fallen across the path. When she moved the tree, a sudden terrible pain pierced her chest. Somehow she managed to get home to her husband and three children. That same day, she had emergency triple by-pass heart surgery.


When I heard the news, I damn near fell to my knees. 

How could this happen? 
She's young, fit, forty. 
It happened.

I was lucky and this was a freak thing, she wrote in an email. I still have "lots of livin' to do" (to quote Bye Bye Birdie)! I will value that and be good with my time here.


Sam is very lucky and very brave.


Just for today, let's feel very lucky (and very brave) too.  


Repeat after me:


I will be good with my time here
I will be good with my time here.
I will be good with my time here.

Chamomile Sounds Good

I'd come up to see if Dad was ready for a cup of tea, maybe a bowl of oatmeal too. He was in bed, under the down comforter, green winter cap on his head. He was looking better, not so pale, eyes clear.

He said, "I've had an interesting revelation."

"What is that?" I said.

"It's come to me that it doesn't really matter if I live or die," he said.

"Oh."

"It's freeing," he said.

"Okay. So," I said, "it doesn't really matter whether you live or die. Freeing. Okay."

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Okay, so what kind of tea would you like?" I asked.

"Chamomile sounds good," he replied.

My Chihuahua Lady

Claire curled up in bed with me.
"I don't know what the big deal is about dying," she said.
"You're really just going to another dimension. I mean, I know you miss seeing people but it doesn't have to be that scary."

Come to think of it, neither does living.
I'm thinking my ten year old is on to something.

It's amazing how fearful I can be.
Should I make the phone call? Yes.
What if I can't figure this out, then I'll have to ask somebody for help. So?
What if the school secretary thinks I'm some kind of woo-woo yoga teacher trying to find work? And my point is?

But if I use my life is a river metaphor, well, standing on the riverbank can be beautiful, but if you never get in the water...?

Like the woman who literally swept by my car today while I was loading groceries into the back. She was upon me in a moment, talking about her chihuahuas (they were in a crate in her backseat). Her bleached hair was a long mane down her back, her face heavily made up, two slashes for eyebrows. She was beaming and going on about the dogs.
"They're my babies. I take them everywhere. On the plane to Miami. You see, my mother died and left me a couple of properties. One of the dogs was hers but she got sick, died. So now I have the two. They're just so cute! You won't believe this but I put one in the hot tub the other night. Oh my God, I think he actually liked it but he kept barking and barking. I thought I was going to have to call 911!"

And then she was gone.

I don't recall saying hello to start our conversation. Maybe I smiled. It doesn't matter. I am so grateful for My Chihuahau Lady. Grateful for her blast of alive-ness today, there in the parking lot of MR. Z's.

I drove home happy, past the piles of dirty snow. I'm pretty sure I heard my angels singing a ditty, a little something to the tune of Happy Birthday...It's not scary at all, Life's not scary at all, It's not scary at ALL! It's really not scary at all.