Let There Be Light

I had a health scare a couple of weeks ago, and all I feel like saying is that it shocked me into submission. Humbled by my smallness, by my inability to control everything despite all my efforts to dictate the course of my life, I sank to my knees in surrender. We aren't entitled to our next vacation time or our next meal or even our next breath. Life is a gift, and we should treat it as such.

My boys learned an acronym at summer camp last year: YOLO (You Only Live Once). I guess the ideology behind this is to put aside all fear and resentment and resignation and live the way we are meant to live: with courage and love and connection. All in, balls out.

It's similar to how we like to "live like it's our last day." This mindset promotes gratitude and perspective, changing the way we look at our mundane day-to-dayness. However, what if we all got a little cryptic and lived like everyone else is dying? I know, kind-of disturbing, but think about it! The light of compassion would dissipate the cloud of hurt and resentment that often stand between us.

Let that person fully come to mind. It shouldn't be hard to think of someone as people hurt people; it's what we do best. Now imagine that person terminally ill. Every occasion here on earth is their last. Would we once again reject their attendance at Christmas dinner? Would we roll our eyes at their quirky behaviour? Would we turn down the volume dial on their life so as to not impose on our own song and dance?

I doubt it. 

A hearse passed me running about a year ago, followed by a line of grieving friends and family and I respectfully stopped running, stood still on the side of the road and waited until they had all passed by. If I can let go of my own agenda for a complete stranger then I better be able to do so for a loved one. Let's turn up the music and dance to the harmony we make.