Live and Love Right Now

Life becomes more beautiful when you remember impermanence

A few years ago, I slipped on wet steps while removing a colorful rain boot and simultaneously leaning over to move a pair of shoes. In an instant, I fell over and rolled down four steps, landing on concrete.

Having tumbled down an entire staircase once before, at least twenty steep steps, probably more, I palpably recalled the sense of increasing velocity that occurs with each inch. Fortunately, this time just four steps flew by till I thumped onto the concrete laying heavily on top of my left wrist.

Yes, it really hurt! I felt in shock, but nothing was broken.

I gingerly got myself up and into the house. At the door, I boldly announced, “My body is strong. I can handle this.”

At the same time, I felt acutely reminded of life’s fragility. Gratitude filled my being. After all, I didn’t have a concussion or even a broken bone. I didn’t die as people sometimes do after a fall.

Nevertheless, as I sat on the bed trying to regain my bearings, my wrist throbbed and throbbed. I alternated calm with sobbing. My arms and hands shook and trembled from time-to-time. I know the body releases trauma via these physical quakes so I felt confidence in its natural ability to care for itself.

I took an Ibuprofen for the pain, swallowed a sleep aid, and gently rubbed homeopathic Arnica cream on my left wrist and hand. I then arranged my arm on a pillow to achieve the least degree of distress. It took a little time for the pang to subside, but I managed to nod off and sleep well.

A Reminder to Love and Live Right Now

I know this is NOTHING, absolutely nothing compared to those braving cancer or another destructive illness. It’s nothing compared to the suffering of this world.

But I embraced it as a reminder to love and live right now.

I have spent too much time in my head, deliberating my life purpose when it’s not that confusing or unclear.

• I write to help and encourage others.
• I meditate to soften my own heart and to learn to live in the pure awareness of nowness.

I’m not ready to die. I feel I have miles to go. But I know what happens in the next moment is not within my control.

When it’s time to move on from this body, I know this life will be but a forgotten dream. But the imprints of my habits will ride along with my most subtle awareness, dictating whatever comes next.

May I make more moments matter instead of reiterating the dysfunctional aspects of my personality.

May I relax and realize that everything is just fine, there’s no need to be tight.

May I let love be my guide and trust my sentinel as I slip into the the unknown, whether it’s the next moment or my final departure from this realm.

Epilogue

Over the four days following my fall, a bee stung me, a water pipe broke, and I managed to put the wrong type of fuel in my car.

These turned out to be powerful lessons when I slowed down and listened. They especially showed me how I relate to emergencies — sometimes calmly and sometimes far less so. The “far less so” encouraged me to look further into the source of my tears and fears. Now I know I can take back my power.

These challenges inspired me to delve into obstacles from a spiritual perspective, waking me up even more to what’s truly important to me in this quickly passing life.

Like the cherry blossoms we admire so much in the spring, we too will pass when our season completes. Never forget impermanence. Let it be a constant reminder to live and love right now.

What wakes you up to the fragility and preciousness of this life? I would love to hear.

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