When i think of where I'm headed, I'm not always sure. Before, when i had a real job, a company i called my own, I felt more safe. But i certainly felt no more enriched, engrossed or satisfied
I'm reading a short book called Becoming Earth, by Eva Saulitis. She chronicles her journey and meditations as she battles breast cancer. She was a marine biologist and a gifted writer. Her writings will move you to a different place. Bits of it may be difficult to read for some, but i feel the depth and beauty of many of her thoughts redeem the corona from the light her tragedy transcends.
Last week, by chance, i met her brother John while filling our Eurovan with gas. He noticed all the surf stickers on the back window and asked if we'd surfed Tofino in British Columbia. From there we ended up talking about life--as i am wont to do!--and at some point he reminded me that today, right now is all we have. As he left he told me to read his sister's book, who has since passed away.
When we look back, will we have lived the life we had hoped for when we were children? The life that seemed so attainable, and to me so obvious and natural? Will we have realized the dreams that were always within our reach but too often were quashed by our own lack of guts or apprehensions or limiting beliefs? Or were simply given up as we went on to make a living?
I can't let that be me. The best part of my story is yet to be written. And i will constantly push back on--or befriend--the notion that the journey i take, viewed through the prism of depression will passively define or shroud my purpose in this life. And in doing so, i will surpass it.