With the arrival of Medicare, this my 65th year is slithering over me. If I could, I’d lose myself in drink or drugs, but the former gives me migraines and the latter, senility. I’m alternately freaking out by or blithely accepting my certain death, and thanking god (just an expression) there’s no eternity. Just contemplate it. Existing forever. Now that scares the shit out of me. I may not believe in god, but I believe in the instinct for survival. I believe in the spark of life that never goes out as it transfers from one life to another. It’s all in the interpretation, right?
I’ve learned that living my life, not as an earth mover, but doing one small act of kindness at a time, amongst all the other acts of living, is good enough, though infinitesimal.
One day I struggle on, sitting in the same little corner day after day, phone silent, inertia keeping from action. I sigh and do another Sudoku, read another newspaper, check for email, listen to NPR, eat crap.
Then something snaps and everything’s easy again. I’m back to feeling vivacious, vital, vigorous. I’m writing, doing yoga, communing with friends, eating good, and happy.
And that’s life, good, bad and indifferent. I’m living in the moment as long as it lasts.