Hi Friends. I’m doing this writing class right now and the just of the question is…Write a letter or a story or a poem in your last week to live. What would you say? What words do you want to leave behind…
To Whom it May Concern,
Turns out I have about a week to live. Life kind of flashes before your eyes as you approach death’s door and it’s interesting to think about what you’ll take with you to the other side.
Much of my teen years and twenties were spent trying to become something. I felt this pull to do better, do more, achieve, achieve, achieve like it were a drug that fed my worth and my ability live life. I sought out titles and medals for accolades because it was the only way I knew how to fill my bucket. I needed things, recognition, celebration and external success to feel good enough. It’s a cultural phenomenon so who can really blame me.
But in my late twenties and early thirties I learned a different way of being. Life knocked me down off my high horse so I could see the beauty of the underworld. I learned the gift of just Being…and to unite with my wild, colorful, tribal roots. It was my connection to my wild soul that was really the secret to life all along. I felt full for the first time ever, not from the outside but from within. It wasn’t a desperate reaching for something outside of me in order to feel loved or good enough, it was a natural oozing out of my Source, a release, a letting go of all the shiny beams I was holding inside. I didn’t have to do a darn thing. I beamed light because I was light. I had danced in it, swirled through the hoops of its’ company and I leaked out golden rays of life in my world. My bucket was finally full because I released who I really was out of me and into the outside world. It never really was about becoming anything, but Being myself at the Sacred. It was about enjoying the Sacred in every possible moment in my life, even if it were doing dishes or running a cleansing bath for my son. I approached each task like it were an active prayer.
I learned to soak in the energy, the magic of the moment like were a sponge and ring it out into my world. I absorbed all life had to offer me by feeling it and rolling in it like it were a colorful explosion of dust on the ground. My pen was my gateway between the worlds, inner reflection and outer resolution, it were really a life line to my Divine. I have nothing left unsaid, unfelt or untouched for I have loved every moment, even when I didn’t think I did. I see how all the crooked trails, all the painful sorrows, were all part of this life’s equation, to come to the answer of a life filled with love, Being and connected to my wild.
So as I sit and reflect what I will take with me to the other side it is not roles or titles or accomplishments, it is my son’s smile, the pulsating high of endorphins that rattle my chest because of the love I have experienced with my husband. I will take the still moments when the moon shone brightly in the dark night sky, or the gift I received in seeing the beautiful crystallized snowflake on my dog’s nose. I will take the soft caress of the wind on my face and the warmth of the sun against my cold skin. I will bring home the magic that this life had to offer and I will gallop on my wild horse to the gates of the other world. Look for a trail of golden dust, it shall sparkle in the sky as I paint colorful clouds all the way there.
For whoever reads this note, this last little bit of sharing I have left, start Being in your life. Focus less on becoming something and plant your feet right in the sacred moment, the exact pearl you are standing in the thread of life and indulge joyously in the crisp, juicy taste of its magic. It is Divine all around, soak it in. Life is art baby, go live it!
And so it is.
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