mortality

The Opposite of Regret

2e292385-dc1c-4cfe-b95e-845f6f98c2ec.pngI don’t know what is the meaning of death, but I am not afraid to die. And I go on, non-stop, going forward, even though I, Bruce Lee, may die some day without fulfilling all of my ambitions, I will have no regrets. I did what I wanted to do and what I’ve done, I’ve done with sincerity and to the best of my ability. You can’t expect much more from life. 

*From Brain Pickings by Maria Popova

Death and Dying

In the span of the last 12 months, I lost my father, a very close family friend, and my best friend from college.

This past year has been a deeply reflective period on mortality and legacy.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to dead and dying things in nature. They, like people, are so undervalued in our eyes. Once vibrant and colorful, they continue to feed the earth with their “bodies.”

Here are a few beautiful leaves I saw while on a walk:

 

and my interpretation:

 

I believe that the more we live in presence, the less we fear “death.”

51

Today is my birthday.

I’m 51. 51 is the new 31. Look who else is 51: Will Smith, Hugh Jackman, Julia Roberts, Jimmy Kimmel, David Guetta, Kylie Minogue, and Vanilla Ice, people! I’m in good company. Jennifer Aniston is almost there and so is J. Lo.

I’ve decided to be proud of my age. It is what it is. How are we to be a society that embraces the elderly if we have shame just for living a long time? I’ve made it. I’ve had a couple close calls: a scooter accident in San Francisco….a blood clot post-labor 17 years ago…breast cancer…yet here I am. I’ve lost some loved ones this year (and in past years) and you know what? Life goes by fast. Live in a way so you won’t regret anything.

And I’m fit. I’m the strongest I’ve ever been mentally and physically. In my twenties, I thought it was most important to be thin. Now I see it’s most important to be strong.

I’m glad I’ve learned the lessons I’ve learned: Be present. Be open. Allow your children to be who they are. Love your job. Live well each day. Don’t take yourself – or anything  -seriously.

 

 

 

 

Reflection

 

Because your father and the Korean War

treated you mercilessly

you swallowed the hate, anger and resentment

with tiny grains of rice and near-clear broth

 

You read books and taught yourself

math – the universal language

you patched holes in your shoes and clothes

sewed extra material to your pant legs

 

With marriage and children, hunger multiplied

your craving for recognition and love

were bottomless pits of self-doubt

and utter darkness

 

You lashed out and your fears

masqueraded as control and power

launched your family away

but your heart cried

come back