As I lay in bed this morning, missing the sun’s
transformation into the day. I breathed, then I thought to myself. This thought
arriving once again, ‘Is it the longer you live the more likely you think you
won’t die? Or is it per chance we are so living busily, that we don’t reckon
with death? Is it that those of us, most of us have not known eternal illness
of some sort? Or, is it our arrogance and self-imposed importance that we mustn’t
Every day I awaken, I reckon with death. Or so it has seemed
more frequently than not in the last thirty years. Or perhaps only increased
over the last thirty. Yet the disturbance of peace, has been the reckoning with
the inevitable I’ve had since I can remember. You don’t have to be sick to have
it. You just have to recognize that you are alive, and time is ticking. And
that you’re here for a reason and you’d better make certain you don’t waste it.
At least, that is if you’re me, and you know you do know better.
I ponder, does everyone or most know better as I do? Perhaps it is what I’ve witnessed in the past. Sometimes been a part of. But I digress. I have
witnessed people shaking off thoughts of the inevitable. It’s as if they are
immortal. And I could venture to say that is true for most. It’s statistically
the ninety-three percenters. They are the ones, who do not believe that they
will suddenly stop this earthly breathing thing. I, me, I marvel at it.
Especially, when I awaken. There are times when I’ve had to literally pinch
myself and whisper, ‘I’m alive. I’m actually still here’. And that fascinates me. The fascination herds
my gratefulness and renders me enthusiastic. Even, when there appears nothing
left for me to be or do, here now on this earth. I somehow find something.
Something is something. Time is ticking. And I know it and
have always known it, since I’ve had a memory. The moment I awaken and feel the
conscious breathe of being awake once again, I say, “Wow.” In a soft whispered
tone to my soul. I turn to the two plants by the window in the east of my
bedroom, thanking them for the greenness that they provide for our living. I go
through my disciplined rituals of stretching in bed, then resetting and making
the bed, gently spraying the plants before I collect myself to the progression
I seek in this life, in this day.
Progression. This new day will not be what you think it will
be. It will not be yesterday. Nothing, but nothing will be ever the same. As it shouldn’t be. It should be different. Because
you learned something the other day. The unexpected I pray, is not a horror
show. I hope for the best. And I know to make every second count. Every thought
must be with a progressive notion and in a progressive motion. I am far from
perfect at this. It takes practice. Yet I set the stage and aim in that
direction from the start. As the day changes, I change. It is all I can do to
ride the wave of the unexpected, when the aim is progression. ---Jody-Lynn