The Arc Of Our Lives

When I lost my mother to leukemia, I was fourteen years old.

What did I know about death? Nothing.

I could feel the sadness. Mostly I felt the gaping hole left in my life from losing someone so close to me.

She was my anchor to the family.

The arc of life was playing out for mom and me. She was just fifty-eight. 

My awareness then of how life events play out in our lives was non-existent. 

Fast forward sixty-one years. My awareness now of the fragility of life and the time we have here is higher.

The dreams I had when I was in my twenties, heck, even ten years ago in my sixties, were  held with the notion I had lots of time to make them a reality.

Today the timing is much more urgent.

The reality drops like a stone into our awareness. Our lives have a beginning, middle, and end.

Still, at seventy-five, I am enthusiastic, optimistic, and hopeful.

Is there a reason to live any other way?

The questions I take time to reflect on:

What is emerging for me?

What wants to bloom and flourish as I give it my attention?

What is on my horizon? 

Namaste