Jonathon Swift once wrote “May you live all the days of your life” and I think about it often. I think about life and love and living, dying, breathing, and reaching. I think about where I have moved from, or in, or around, or just within arm’s reach, to where I am now. And I thought about that as I stood on the dock and felt the mist on my face. I wondered if the weight of decision, action, and consequence could be measured, how much it would be? Would it fit in my hand? Be held in my arms? Or would it crush me by its magnitude in all those little ways I ‘didn’t think through’? Or perhaps it would cut me, leaving a small scar, a hypothetical signature to say that it was here and put me in my proverbial place.
Maybe in the end everything that I thought would really matter will end up dissolving back to basic elements. Maybe everything I took for granted, even for the briefest moment will be the secret to life. Maybe I fell asleep at the least opportune moment, but woke back up at a pivitol point? Who's to say?
The sunset tonight was beautiful.
"I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by loving, by losing."