life as a collection

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Death is something that, at 27, I am still hard-pressed to process. It’s weird. So I am sitting here with cycling, suprise emotions, having just heard about the passing of a woman in my building – a woman who’s been a gentle light to the staff here; quiet, but constantly smiling; one of those rare people who still gave genuine Hello, How Are You?'s. A woman whose schedule I entered into the system each day for the past 3 years. I am staring at the sign in sheet I know I should be processing, knowing it’s the last one I’ll enter for her; wondering if it’s normal to cry while staring at paper. Death is weird.

And now we process the paperwork, think of the family, and remark at how the lens on our life’s eye is somehow tinted a different color (if Poignant was a color); like we are somehow more humbled to be alive. Healthy and loved; breathing and capable; living. 

Just this morning I posted pictures from the run I went on yesterday evening – truly, it was a beautiful time to be outside. I kept getting distracted, my eyes and feet wandering seaside. My breath kept catching in my throat; I think I even giggled once because it was SO! PRETTY! It was all magnified by the fact that I was one of the few people out there - so the serenity was almost pure. My run was more a collection of short jogs than one continuous workout; I kept losing my intended focus.  I even sat down for awhile at the edge of the rocks just to listen to the water, and to watch the bird-like sillouhettes above the steady ryhthm of the waves. Today, I am inexplicably glad I did that.

It is important to stop and notice your life; what is around you, who is around you; to focus not on where you are going but where you currently are. I once heard a Cliché say that life was short, and the Cliché was right. Let’s not waste our time, friends. Be alive while you are living; learn to live while you are alive.