Connection

Each Day is a Gift

I welcome my mortality.
It’s scary to share with another
Thoughts of the impermanence of life.
Perhaps it is too morbid a subject for some
And it can really darken another’s mood.

Once you hit middle age 
You begin to realize
Half of a lifetime 
May already have been lived.
Maybe one day you notice
It takes the body longer to recover
than it used to.
Like I can’t roller skate as fast as before
And my balance is a bit off-kilter.

If today was my last day to live
How would I want it to go?
What would make my final moments
Have meaning?
Would I feel I’ve lived a well-lived and well-loved life?

Or would I deeply feel the shortness of life
And the reality that there isn’t enough time 
To do “all the things;”
That there was more in this lifetime for me 
to experience?
Checking things off a list 
or a life of comparison, 
wanting what they have
even if it doesn’t resonate with you,
isn’t the point.

Each day I try to embody that life truly is a gift.
And I intend to bring that appreciation
And gratitude into all my days 
While I get to roam this earth.

self-care

Save it for later

Maybe it’s the ease of access and unlimited offers for free X.  “See my PDF” and I get a hit of dopamine.  And like a hoarder, I add it to my digital collection to read later.  When is later exactly?  Links expire.  Websites go away and fade into the ether.  The information was there.  I just didn’t bother.  I was too busy or I didn’t have the energy at the moment.  The timing wasn’t right.  The interest was there and it was promptly filed under “later.”

There are eons of digital folders, filled to the brim on my desktop and email.  Yes, I may be downsizing my physical clutter.  But there sure is a lot of digital clutter.  I have three or four full thumb drives just hanging on a tack on the corkboard.  My Google Drive free space is completely filled and I’m considering paying money for the extra storage space.  I do have a Seagate external drive that is only a quarter full, but I don’t trust its longevity. And this morning my iPhone noted that I was out of space to shoot a video or download an app.

Tasks put off to “later

Do I have the time to actually access and assess those files?  Are they named accurately so I can find them when inspiration finally hits?  I have Ebooks, countless PDFs, meditation and audio files, and even some MP4 videos “just in case” the internet goes down or the website goes away.

I’ve learned enough not to count on the website being in fortitude.  Sites cost money to keep and maintain.  Who wants a blogpost from 2010 with working links?  Who cares?  Is it relevant anymore or to anyone?  So I get it.

2010 was an integral time for me.  I was in my early 30s.  I was figuring stuff out and what worked for me.  And somehow what I put off for “later” is now being revisited almost a decade later now.  I remember digital programs that I took and printed in full color, and memories of  audios I never listened to.

Where did they all go?  Does it matter?  The lessons are still swimming around and taking up my headspace.  So I guess if it matters to me, it counts.  And I’m sure as hell that others are wandering around the digital realm too wondering where did it go?

Perhaps it’s the lack of the physical, tangible that drives my need to digitally hoard.  A backup is my safety net.  It’s there when I’m ready like a book patiently waiting on the shelf until its title just seems to leap across the room and enter my vision.  It becomes real, possible, important and interesting, worth my time and energy to look into.

I guess that’s what all information really is.  Energetically waiting to be discovered, observed, tried on, experimented, digested, alchemized and transformed with our own meaning behind it.  Finally making it ours to integrate, to share, to evolve, to be.