Saturday, July 21, 2007

If it were my last day on Earth...

I'd smile relentlessly, ear to ear. I'd laugh at every funny thing I saw. I'd stop to remember the insane number of happy moments in my life every time my giddiness began to fade.

I'd dye my hair pink, wear it in pigtails with lots of bows and ribbons, line my eyes in glitter and stars, and laugh every time I looked in the mirror from pure delight.

I would allow myself to love myself and therefore everyone else.

I'd forget about my weight, how much money I have in the bank, what others thought of me, and what yesterday brought.

I'd stop blaming other people for how I feel. I'd step away from those people that didn't build up the energy around me, and that looked for the negative. I'd set myself free from any reason to feel held down. I'd fly in my new awareness.

I'd dance everywhere I went, play the stereo as loud as I could and sing at the top of my lungs, drive slowly in the sunshine and soak up the rays, notice every leaf on every tree.

I'd tell everyone I ever knew how much they meant to me. I'd think about how much I learned about myself from all those people that drove me crazy. I'd look up those I didn't talk to anymore and call truce. I'd lay the blame where it belonged: on me. I'd move past the blame.

I'd spend time with my friends and hold them close, unafraid to tell them how much they mean to me. We'd spend hours together, talking about nothing. I'd buy them a drink and we would create another great memory.

I wouldn't second guess a single moment of the day. I'd feel happy I'd lived another minute and I would find reason and a means to celebrate it! I would understand the meaning of rejoicing, of jubilee.

I'd talk to everyone I met in the streets, and when I asked how they are, I'd really listen when they answered. I'd find the things I understood about them and cling to that. I'd find ways to connect. I'd build a bridge instead of a wall. I'd wonder why I ever judged anyone at all. I'd understand why people judged me.

I would instantly forgive. Not just myself, but everyone. For everything.

I'd take a long, unflinching look at myself, and, with compassion and empathy, wonder why I had been so hard on myself. To achieve some goal? To get to a certain point? I'd relish in the fact that this is the certain point. This moment is all we ever have, and I would thank God that I was granted it. I'd wonder why I was scared of the most beautiful gift of all: love. I'd ask myself why I held so many people so far away. And what good did the baggage do? Did I really think I wasn't able to get over it? Inside of me I knew all along I could've dropped the baggage, I could've hit the delete key. I'd wonder why I let it hold me back from so many radiant moments.
And then, just as quickly as I thought these things, I'd forget the past.

I'd let go of all the pain, and let the little stuff slide. And in doing that, I'd realize, isn't it ALL little stuff? I would feel the amazing ability to instantly forgive- not just myself, but everyone. For everything.

I'd fill up on the joy of life. I'd feed a hungry person, run in the park with my dog, play with a kid, dance with someone - spin them around, twirl in the air. I'd enjoy the silliness. I'd do everything I could to make the moment a little better for someone else. I'd feel lit up inside about the amazing amount of good in the world. I'd be overwhelmed with the beauty of so many people.

I'd see my connectedness to everything.

I'd truly, fully, totally live, unafraid of pain. I'd glow in the exuberance of feasting on my life, feasting on the amazing array of possibilities for one single second. I'd forget all the guilt, all the anger, all the grief.

At the end of the day, as I approached death, I would not allow myself to question the most monumental, the most significant question of all: why did you not allow yourself to live this way every day? Instead, I'd fall asleep with the dizzying taste of existence in my mouth, the savor of the marrow of life, happy and peaceful in whatever was to come next. I'd drift in exhaustion without a regret, with nothing hindering or clouding the deep, enlightened restfulness.

And I'd never understand why anyone cried when I left.


"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
- Albert Einstein (1879-1955)


faye said...

Did you write this? This belongs on my mirror, refrigerator, desk at work, in my car, on everyone's forehead who I ever get secretly (and pointless) annoyed over...

Grace and Grit is going well. I read the end first, don't know why. Totally beautiful. It is a highlighter book, so much that is profound.

Anonymous said...

this is wonderful. It brings tears to my eyes.

Kelly Kane said...

Nice post my friend :)


Jen said...

Beautiful , God bless you!!!

Nicole said...

Hi there. :) Old, old post...this I know. But I came across your blog recently when someone very close to me was diagnosed with melanoma. I'm working on getting through everything so I definitely haven't read it all, but I can say so far that I admire your spirit throughout your journey. :) And I have to say...this post is amazing. I mean, really. I'm a healthy, blessed woman, and I complain about the dumbest SHIT. And really, that's such a waste. You've inspired me, and I know you've inspired others. God bless you, darling. You're amazing. :)

Anonymous said...

I love this. I love when other people can change my outlook on life. Thank-you. :)


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