Someone recently asked my how old I will be this year.
When the number popped into my head, I must admit to a certain overwhelming sense of panic. Not about being older or any of those things (though I imagine I will feel some of those, too) but about the time. Time, I think, is our most precious resource. Yet we have no clue how much of it we have. So each minute, every hour, that day and the one over there, too, are precious. I'd like to hoard mine. But that's the thing - you absolutely MUST spend it. It's all in the how.
Whyte's words are a billboard of how I want to spend mine - in brave participation, wild generosity and robust vulnerability. But I am also deeply human (flawed, awkward, sensitive, sometimes crabby and all the things humanness entails) and sometimes I am not so brave, not so generous, not so open. I (gently) remind myself to do better.
So far, I wake up each day with another to spend. Glorious, isn't it?
The universe must be giggling.
Even as my feet find their way to the thin places in the world (mountains and water, in this case), my art finds me in horizontal and perpendicular frontiers in the class with Pauline Agnew, while my heart finds me sharing the depth of life and the human condition with those I love. And a sweet friend sends me the quote above in response to my hikes. Whoa. Is it possible to feel fully grounded in the thin places? My footing has never felt surer, though my control over the journey is obviously less than I have ever thought I had.
The more I let go, the surer I feel.
That isn't to say the letting go is without anxiousness....oh no no NO! But the more I let go, the more I know I can let go. And the more okay I am with opening my hands and letting things perch gently upon them, coming and going. Sometimes those things stay.
Jen Jovan and her imaJENation