A Thirty-Eighth Trip Around the Sun

Today is my 37th birthday. Depending on your perspective, this date each year marks the beginning or signals the end of a year in this life. In my life. This year, more than most, I have spent my birthday in contemplation and self-reflection; taking stock of where I have been, where I am now, and most importantly where I am headed.

It is fair to say that the last two or three years have gotten away from me. I will spare you a lengthy diatribe, recounting all the contributory events and details. In part because they are highly personal, and in part, because to do so feels like an exercise in excuse making. To prattle on about the various justification I have allowed myself for not living my best life does not service the point here. Sufficed to say that I have chosen not to live my truth; I have allowed myself to repeat unhealthy cycles and resume entrenched patterns of behaviour which do not serve me mentally, physically, emotionally or spiritually.

As the sun sets tonight and I drift off to sleep, the clock resets; tomorrow is the first day of my 38th trip around the sun. I do not pretend to have it all mapped out. I do not presume to suggest that I know where I will be this time next year, let alone how I will get there. All that I have certainty about tonight are my intentions:

I intend to embrace the journey.

I intend to live my truth.

I intend to take risks.

I intend to treat my body with the respect and reverence it deserves.

I intend to listen to my heart more and my pride less.

I intend to nurture my spirit and my soul in creativity.

525600 Minutes

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

– ‘Seasons of Love’ from the musical, Rent. Lyrics by Jonathan D. Larson.

I have loved these lyrics from the first time I heard them. There is such freedom in the sentiment. A year in a life  – in your life – consists of five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred precious minutes; minutes of beauty, of joy, of sorrow and of pain.

Stop and think about that for a moment. I mean really think about it. In the next three hundred sixty five days, you will have five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred perfectly equal minutes worth of experiences. None shorter or longer than the last. None passing more quickly or more slowly than another.  For better or worse, that is it; one year is nothing more than a series of experiences.

Still, almost instinctively, we order and judge our lives using various constructs of time:

“This is the year I will finally…”

“Next week I commit to…”

“Tomorrow will be a better day”.

“By the time I am thirty [fourty…fifty…sixty…], I will…”

“My New Year’s resolution is…”

Of course we do right? It makes perfect sense. We crave structure and order in our lives. But, what if while we are busy structuring and ordering, there exists an unintended consequence? What if, while we are plotting the human experience against timelines, we neglect to experience our lives? What if, as we look toward how much better the next interval will be, we miss the opportunity to understand the experiences, opportunities and relationships that are occurring for us right now?

I don’t know where I will be five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes from now. I don’t know what I will have experienced or learned, nor who I will have loved or lost. But, I intend to experience every single one of those minutes with curiosity and gratitude for the journey. I intend to feel, and to learn, and to grow. That is after all, the entire point.

Closing Remarks: 2015

I sat down this morning to pen a profound narrative; My 2015 in review. Instead the clock reached midday and beyond, and I found myself sitting with hands poised over the keys, staring at a blank screen.

How does one summarize a year? Is this achieved by cataloging events and adventures? By measuring successes? By recounting defeats? By proclaiming intent for future achievements? I suppose… but somehow it seems overly derivative and utilitarian to summarize a year in the life of a human being in such a categorical manner.

That’s it! “A year in the life of a human being…”, that is the missing piece. What was 2015 within the context of my life?

2015 was the year that I felt overwhelming joy and deepest sorrow. It it was the year that I cared greatly for others, yet I acted selfishly. It was the year that I craved stability and still pursued change. It was the year that I achieved wonderful successes while making horrible mistakes. It was the year that I experienced immense freedom and crippling restraint. It was the year that I began to heal my mind but continued to hurt my body. 2015 is the year that I learned that every step on my journey will not be executed with perfection; it is also the year that I gained the insight to appreciate the value of my stumbles.

With this in mind, as I sit here in the final hours of 2015, I pay respects to the path that has led me to where I am, I open myself to the journey that lies ahead, and I hold this moment in reverence with the grace to be thankful and the confidence to accept that I am exactly where I need to be.

Risky Business

Risk is the scale upon which we balance life’s choices and evaluate our needs, wants, dreams, fantasies, and even our fears to determine which choices might lead to the greatest fulfillment in our lives. We ask ourselves what stands to be gained or lost? Can we live with each potential outcome? At the end of careful deliberation, the risk is either accepted, or not. Insert cheesy movie quote here. At it’s core, risk is a question of “Is the juice is worth the squeeze?”

Alas, life is rarely this tidy and sometimes risks are worth taking solely to experience them. Let me explain.

There is a certain amount of emotion – be it anticipation, fear, anxiety or excitement – inherent to the concept of risk. Suppose the decision to risk is not made based on careful evaluation of needs or wants against potential outcomes. Instead, could it be a need to experience an emotion or sensation that motivates us to risk? 

I need risk; it is the color in a world that often seems awash in grey. I crave the excitement and exhilaration that jumping head first into a situation brings. I feel at ease in the chaos of uncertainty and anticipation that comes with a new experience. My motivation for risk is born more out of having the experience than it is a calculated step toward a perceived goal.
“Is the juice worth the squeeze?” I suppose I seldom care; I am more of a beer girl anyway.

What Can Happen in a Second?

A few minutes before midnight, the metronomic sound rang out from high above his rain-soaked head; like Pavlov’s dog he stepped off the curb. Looking down as frigid rainwater flooded the chestnut brown Italian leather boot on his left foot, he took a wide step to the right to avoid submerging the other foot in the dark puddle.

Blink. Rain drops.
Blink. Feet. Lots of feet.
Blink. Lights; blue and red and white.

He lay face down on the cold, wet pavement. Pinned beneath the weight of something massive.

Blink. Pain.
Blink. Confusion.
Blink. Fear.

“Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes buddy! Stay with me!” Each word grew softer. Then nothing.

In the darkness, a curtain lifts and images flood the screen. Each lasting only a second.

A woman holds her infant son for the first time. Tears of joy streak her rosy cheeks.

A small blonde boy stands in front of the tree on Christmas morning, smiling.

A mother wipes tears from the face of the small blonde boy as she gently applies a Batman bandage to his scraped knee.

A young man in a black tuxedo stands proudly in front of his house. Beside him is a beautiful red haired young woman in a floor length teal gown. She is wearing a courage of white lilies.

The young man beams proudly in a cap and gown.

The young man sits alone in a sparsely furnished dorm room. He stares forlornly at a photo of the beautiful red haired girl.

A group of men pose for a photo on a sandy beach. Arms around one another and beer bottles raised overhead.

The blonde man stares across a crowded pub at a woman with long raven black hair and bright blue eyes. He is smiling.

The blonde man in on bended knee. The raven haired woman stands before him. He is holding a small velvet box up toward her.

A newly married couple wave as their car pulls away from the curb in front of the church.

The man holds his infant daughter for the first time. Tears of joy streak his rosy cheeks.

Blink.
Blink.
Blink.