In the back of our minds, we are all aware of our own mortality. We wake, drink coffee, bang a keyboard, go for a run, watch a game, eat some ice cream, read a book, set our alarm for the next day, and otherwise go about our business hoping something exciting will happen.
Maybe we create some excitement for special occasions? Otherwise, we while away our days in what are hopefully productive pursuits. Then one day the drummer drops a stick, or the bassist pops a string, and the rhythm ceases to keep time.
We become aware of the busyness of running errands, keeping the gas tank full, the glare of fluorescent lights in the office, the traffic. The bustle of everyday life swirls around us, like a log stuck in a riverbed, yet we lie still, considering our own breathing.
We inhale deeply and feel the air in our lungs. We blink our eyes and sense the moisture in their corners. We crack our knuckles and flex our toes and pop our ears. We hear the gurgle of digestion snaking down our abdomen.
We become aware of the intricate and delicate yet resilient nature of our bodies — of our selves. We become aware of the battle between permanence and impermanence.
The concrete edifice of the mighty interstate highway will stand long after we are gone, but should we sacrifice ourselves to it by sitting in traffic? Each of us carries a different priority in our hearts. Here's hoping each of us pursues them with equal gusto.
What matters to you today?