Today I called a friend who is dying. She is afraid and she cries …and although she knows her life is almost over, she holds on. She is a woman of great thoughts, great insight, and great passion for justice. She has been betrayed by her body and her emotions for decades. She, as we all, will die one day. Some soon, some later; some too soon.
I think many of us walk the earth every day as if we are already dead. We have given up on ourselves; our loved ones; our joy and our hope. I am not talking about the occasional ‘blues’ we all feel. I am talking about the pervasive despair that we allow to take over every moment. I feel it… do you? I focus on the limitations, the unmet expectations - instead of the inspirations each moment provides. My glass is not only half empty, it is leaking faster than I can fill it up.
Dragging myself out of bed each day, to face another meaningless day at a ‘job’; dredging up just enough enthusiasm at just the right moment to fool those around me into thinking I am living a worthy life; wishing I could close the door, hide away, and shut out life. Does this sound familiar?
Today I called a friend who is dying. She is afraid and she cries…but I am the one who is already dead; I am the one who does not fear death; I am the one who does not cry.
What will I be tomorrow?