This past weekend, a long-serving and hugely popular co-worker at Weaver Street Market Co-operative died suddenly. This on a weekend we had already set aside to honor those in our armed forces who gave their lives to protect us. It got me thinking about the way I truly appreciate life.
So. This morning, I consciously stopped and listened to the birds, as they cussed and swore and made sweet merry with each other. I inhaled the tangy scent of flowering bush, until its pollen stung the back of my nostrils. I felt each step of my feet on the hard concrete, like silent echoes in my psyche.
When later the sun shines, I will take all kinds of moment to feel its rays wash my soul, and its heat warm me to the deepest depths of my heart.
Today, when my neighbors annoy, I will smile. When a child screams, a cookie will magically appear in its hand. When work piles up, I will laugh it away.
I will not just see; I will feel. I will not merely experience; I will enjoy. I will test every one of my material senses, until I run out of ways to amuse both myself and all those around me.
I will do this not to taunt those who are no longer with us. But to honor them. To give testament to what they once enjoyed. Or may have missed. And to celebrate what is still available to me. For that is what they would want.
They are not trapped. And they would not wish that I act as if I am. They would want that I rejoice in every moment of my being alive. In their memory. And with their blessing.