A couple of experiences in the last 24 hours remind me of this Buddhist concept:
With every breath, we live; with every exhale, we die.
It was nearly 100 degrees again yesterday, and I spent the evening swimming in Lake Minnetonka with my stepson, my Beloved and a new friend (who had access to a great pontoon boat).
The lake was calm, the water was warm, a loon called while we enjoyed the sunset. It was one of those rare well-lived moments when everything was right with the world.
This new friend’s attitude influenced me, I’m sure of it, because she talked about being a caregiver this spring for a friend of hers who died 8 weeks after being diagnosed with ALS, the horrible disease that slowly (or quickly, I guess) robs one of the ability to move, then speak, then breathe. His sudden demise when he said “I have so much living yet to do” was painful. Now, she was vowing to live in the moment and soak up every joy of summer — on this evening, she was soaking with some friends on her pontoon.
At lunch I enjoyed catching up with someone who is having a midair moment — she’s between things. She’s using summer to take care of herself and listen to the universe reveal “the next thing.”
I’m fervently reminded to enjoy the present moment — that’s what the universe is revealing to me — and I want to share one last quote from R.A. Dickey, the baseball pitcher whose memoir I reviewed yesterday:
“I write, too, … about learning to not worry about the next week or month or year, but rather to put all my energy into living the next five minutes well. If I keep living the next five minutes well, I know I’ll be exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Here’s to the next five minutes and being exactly where we’re supposed to be.