You Mean I Might Not Live Forever?
This has been one of my most challenging weeks of this amazing journey, for many reasons. But the most challenging has been dealing with the concept of my own mortality. In fact, since we did the exercise of reading a random obituary once a day things haven’t been quite the same for me, I just haven’t been able to put my finger on it…until now.
You see, for about the past 10 years I’ve been telling myself that I’m going to live forever. Like really, I believe that this physical reality is the illusion, and that we can create Heaven on Earth when we realize that there is no separation, that you are me and I am you, and we are here to create and play. I believe that immortality is not only possible, but why we are here. But this week I came to a realization when we had to euthanize our little teacup Yorkie, Lucy. Lucy was the last of our family pets that have been with us during the childhood of our kids. Goldie our greyhound, Blaze the Malamut-Huskey mix, Maggie our Jack Russell, and finally Lucy. Lucy’s passing represented the end of something, a finality that I haven’t experienced before. It represented a definite end to something, a passage of time. Our pets that were such a huge part of our family’s life were gone. Our children are young adults. I’m 58, with silver hair (I still can’t say gray).
On Tuesday morning I woke up knowing we had to take Lucy to the Vet, and I started to read the Scroll Marked V. “I will live this day, as if it is my last”. And it was my last, my last with Lucy…
That morning, when I was taking Lucy out for what would be our last short walk together, I realized that I was using the idea of immortality as a freakin’ excuse to be lazy. Wow is the ego a sneaky thing.
Thanks to Lucy, I realized that I can use the current reality, where physical death does exist, as a tool. And OG’s final paragraph in the Scroll Marked V has become my new mantra…
I live this day as if it is my last. And if it isn’t, I shall fall to my knees and give thanks.
Thank you Lucy! Your little soul is immortal, and on your last day you’ve helped transform me forever.