Day 2: Not Gonna Feel Bad About Being Me

Second day, and I failed (sort of) at making the passions of my life manifest.

Today was soul-sucking, mind-numbing, and boring, spent going from session to session at Day 2 of Convergence, listening to one presenter after another drag me through apps and platforms and programs that mean NOTHING to me.  Seriously, nothing.  My threshold for these sessions today was extremely narrow, especially when Day 1 wasn't much better.  While I can respect the fact that there are people out there who get super excited about tech "stuff", I'm not one of them.  Especially on the first two days that I'm making a point of pouring "life" into my life.

There was one bright spot today, though.  The one session I attended that actually spoke to me was led by two brothers, twins, whose mirror souls inspire them to write children's books and produce children's videos and make the world a beautiful, creative, brighter place.  At one point during their presentation, tears puddled in my eyes; their words were all about trying and doing and painting and drawing and creating; their "ish" philosophy is gorgeous; their parting comment was about "painting our dot and signing it", a philosophy that fits perfectly into my goal of living.  They made me want to turn my space into love and light and paint and words and music.

Not apps.  Not Google classroom.  Not some program that is designed to give electronic sticky notes to group participants that I can't remember the name of, even though I used it during a session today.

Okay, maybe today wasn't a fail.  Maybe tapping into what I want---even though my day didn't represent that---was living my life after all.

Day 1: A Year to Live

Today is Monday, November 16, 2015, and...

I have 365 days to live.

Let me clarify:

I'm not saying I've been diagnosed with a terminal illness that will take my life one year from now.  I'm saying that I've come to a point on my life-path that I'm assessing what that means, having a "life path"...

What is this thing called LIFE?  What is the point of it?  What are we supposed to be doing with it?  These are questions I've been circling around for years... and then...

Yesterday, at church, our minister challenged us with these queries:
Would you want to know the exact day you were going to die?
and
If you did know it, what would it inspire you to do?

Oh, boy....

His question made me wonder if I'd want to know that about myself.  I have to admit, my initial reaction was no (as most people's reaction is), but....the more I thought about it...the more I realized that I actually did want to know the day that would be my final day.  Maybe that's macabre and maybe I'm playing with fire by admitting that, but I really do think I'd like to know.

Because, if I knew....I TRULY believe that it would spur me on to live, to REALLY LIVE, in the time I had left.

So...

What am I waiting for?  Why can't I face my future with a fierce determination to wring the maximum life out of each day, even without a specific "X-number of months left" diagnosis falling over me?   Why can't I go ahead and live each day as if it were my last?  Why can't I appreciate every moment, every breath, every teeny-tiny-itty-bitty aspect of my world RIGHT NOW?  If I started to truly realize that the clock WAS ticking,  would I change myself?  Would I quit my job and take up a cause?  Would I become more loving?  Be more forgiving?  Get peaceful or more brash or more patient or more kind?

I have no idea, but....I want to see.

So, for the next 365 days, I am committing to a life fully lived.  Each of the days, over the next year, are gifts.  MY gifts.  I want to open each one with excitement and with appreciation.  I want to see how, by keeping the idea of impending finality present in my life, I can be (in that life) more present.  I want to honor this length of days, whatever mine may be, by lengthening my joy of them.

Here's to life, then.  My life.  For the next 365 days.