Thursday, February 13, 2014

We will all leave this world very soon



Whether it’s in thirty years, late next week, or later this afternoon, the reality is that we will all die sooner than we’d like. And lurking behind all of our daily concerns, just underneath the anxiety of our immediate embodied experience, hidden in the shadows of our uncompleted projects is this most alive and life-changing reality that we can never fully turn away from. For many are haunted each day by the ghost of their unlived lives.

Knowing that this life is a gift and that you will be returned to love soon, how will you live in this day? Will you allow and make room for your experience and others’? Will you provide an intimate, spacious holding environment, a wild container of kindness in which all of you is held, embraced, and allowed to unfold and be illuminated? Will you turn toward all of you, and open wide to the possibility that even your scariest places are intelligent and pathways of creativity and wisdom? Will you touch your own sadness, another’s grief, a friend’s fear, your own loneliness, a child’s despair?

In those precious last moments of life, it is very unlikely you’ll wonder: “I think I risked too much, I should have played it safer.” You may not find yourself so concerned about whether you completed some mythical spiritual journey or whether you were able to uphold some particular image of yourself as a spiritual person, able to construct all the right “high” states of consciousness, or remain safe and detached as the great "witness" of it all.

Perhaps there will be only one real question that you will be asking as you prepare to leave this sacred human world: “How well did I love in this life?” “How much did I risk to know love?” "How much did I open my heart to myself and others?” “How kind was I to my own and others’ lived experience?”

Let us take pause today and go ahead and explore this, before it is too late. 


Photo: sunrise over Moraine Park in Rocky Mountain National Park, not too far from my home in Colorado, taken by Alex Burke

 

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