What would I do if I knew I only had a few months to live? The answer is impossible, really. How can this not be a theoretical question? I am wondering if my life would take a different direction. There would probably be things I would stop doing. But other things would just go on. These kind of questions about doing don’t lead me anywhere. They make my head spin and my heart revolt. As with every other situation in my life, I think the main thing is to address my own mind states. That is the main preparation for me. That is what I do before I give a presentation or workshop. Before I go into a challenging meeting. There are lots of practical ways to prepare, but those do not mean anything if I do not meet my emotions.
I am gently feeling into my body, encountering rushed energy, aching contraction and today also a strong hint of skepticism. This is somehow expressing itself in the poise of my head, the frown in my forehead and lips more tightly pursed than I feel comfortable with. I feel into all of this with friendly interest. Then more clarity comes. I find myself pondering, hands clutched, elbows pressing into my side. It is as if I am praying. The knuckles of my thumbs pressing into my chin. There is definitely some pondering going on. I scan the room, unseeing. Attention drawn by small signs of life: a bird flying among the trees in the distance, a helicopter, the sound of an aeroplane, crumbs on the table, washing drying on a rack. Small signs of life. In no particular order. Life itself happening when I am not really noticing it. The crow outside agreeing wholeheartedly. A footstep on the stairs, a slammed door, a window rattled by the wind. Voices. More life. Life is not lived by pondering, it seems. It is just happening. Keeps happening. Until it stops.
