Live Live Live

You know the phrase "live every day as though it were your last"? That is better advice in theory than in practice, because it's fairly likely that our last days won't offer us the chance to do as we please. Some of us will spend our last days hooked up to a respirator; others will have lost their mental faculties months or years before. A few of us will be lucky enough to be completely present in our last moments, and others will begin their mornings without knowing that they're drinking the last coffee of their lives.

I know I'm not making much sense; I'm really just rambling while ruminating. But having spent a decent amount of time among the dying lately, I can't help but think that "carpe diem" is a better credo. It's more positive, like blooming into life — whereas living like it's your last day implies that you're running from death. I keep thinking about hope and fear as motivators. Both have propelled me into action, but the decisions I have made out of fear have been the ones I've regretted. I regret the things I didn't do more than the things I did.

Three things happened this year that radically changed my perspective on the way I want to live. First, Mark and I breaking up. I'm so lucky that we did, because in doing what I wanted instead of what I thought would be safer, I wound up figuring out a lot about myself. It doesn't matter that the relationship ended. Well, it matters, but you know what I mean — I don't regret the decision. Decades from now, when spots cloud my vision and my bones are tired, I will still be glad that I took the risk. That I ended something that was destroying me.
I am lucky to still have him in my life. I always supected that we were better as friends anyway.

Number two! Breast lump. The moment I felt it wobble under my fingers, I knew that it definitely did not belong there. I was scared but somewhat calm about the whole thing. It's not like I could worry myself out of cancer if I'd had it. Because the lump is benign, the doctor said we'd monitor it rather than remove it. In a weird way, I'm glad it's still there, because it's a physical reminder to appreciate simply being healthy. I know that sounds corny, but it's true.


Finally, the third. My Auntie Ellen's death this month. Death has had the most impact of these three things, but it is the most difficult to articulate. One thing I do know is that — oh god, this is so hippie-ish, forgive me — life is brief, and death is very real, and I want to live more courageously until my time comes. I know that sounds like some new agey shit, and maybe it is, but after she died, I felt more urgency to become a better person. No more rinky-dink procrastinating, no more excuses, no more holding myself back from fear of failure. I want to share more, to love more, to write more, to be more giving. I want to have a remarkable life and to create stronger connections, or at least die trying.

I don't think I have life figured out. I don't think anybody ever does. But I think this year will stand out as a turning point. I don't want this to come off as some sort of pretentious, know-it-all "Oh, I'm going through a MAGICAL SPIRITUAL TRANSFORMATION" thing. I readily admit that if I were a Transformer, my name would be Megaflawed, and I would clumsily shift into a unicycle or something equally as lame. Still, it feels like something is happening. I feel alive, and that is a very good place to be.