I doesn’t seem fair that this is the
only life I have, even as visions of heavenly hallways and reincarnation flood
my mind; yet these are the fairy tales and stories written to comfort us with dreams
of angels ushering our bodies and spirits to another dimension after our time
on Earth is done.
I have believed in “something more”
many times in my life and I understand the draw. The excitement of what lies
ahead like the anticipation before a grand vacation. Floating on wispy clouds
and safe in the arms of a being who will take what is left of this shell and
make it into something useful, divine, and immortal.
Believe me, I could use an upgrade – failing
eyes, sore feet and back, constant worry about blood pressure and glucose and
how many bottles of water a day it will take to keep me alive. When to
exercise, too little or too much, or what my body looks like at the beach. Not
to mention keeping my brain healthy, meeting goals, making others happy and
fulfilling my destiny in a career. There is so much to consider that nightly
sleep is a respite…though I fear that worry will even invade my dreams.
Then it hits me that my life is a
miracle. I remember the remote unlikelihood of me even taking my first breathe,
not to mention dodging childhood illnesses and crashed bikes, terrible drivers,
and ICU visits, personal tragedy and heartache, pandemics and life-threatening
storms…to arrive at the age I am now; the miracle of living where I live in
the time that I live, with all the pleasures and gifts that are coming my way.
All these have kept my heart beating and brought me to 55. I have arrived here
in one piece, and so I continue to rise every morning with strong coffee and
high hopes, believing that I am still making some difference.
It does not matter if I look in the
mirror and don’t like what I see. I am stuck with that mask and I must work
with what I have. Nobody is going to carve me into the image of that person
that I long to be. Even plastic surgery would not make me happier, because
under that skin lies the heart and soul of the person I have built and molded my
entire life. Technically I am the same person I was at 20, but the years have
made me an optimistic fatalist and an unspiritual realist. I am now getting to the
age where contentment is sneaking up on me. I am not sure it will ever find me,
but I know I am learning to feel comfortable in my skin, even as it wrinkles
and withers in the winds of my future travels.
Until I disappear forever.
