Inspired Life

 

Memoirs of a Downward Facing Dog

If you could close your eyes and conjure up the biggest, most outlandish, no-holds-barred version of your most fantastical, joyous, incredible, outrageously satisfying life…what would that look like?

When we are children we are asked, “What would you like to BE when you grow up?”  Why do we ask children that?  Is it not such a loaded question?  BE-ing implies resting your happiness on a moment of arrival.  BE-ing implies a clear-cut path, an end point; a destination.  BE-ing implies definition: four corners and four lines to form a box around all that you ARE and all that you ARE NOT.  And when we get wrapped up in all of that impulse to BE, are we not setting ourselves up for failure, regret, disappointment, and disenchantment when arriving at above-mentioned end destination doesn’t float our boats?

Why are we not asked:  What would you like to do?  Discover?  Dismantle?  Unwind?  Make a mess of?  Rejoice in?  Celebrate?  What kind of person would you like to be?  What would you like to leave behind?  How would you like to love?

It’s so easy to get yanked around by the strings of “should” and “would” and “could”.  But sooner or later, you start to feel like a marionette doing some jerky dance called Obligation for all the wrong reasons.

I write in the wake of death.  And death usually helps us question our place in life.

The thing is, if you actually did come up with a giant, audacious dream when I asked you to close your eyes a moment ago…. what ever is holding you back?!?

If there is anything that can be learned from death, it is that life is so very short.  There is no TIME to wait for later.  No better time than now.  To say I love you.  To say I’m sorry.  To be brave and do what you dream.  To live and create a fantastical, joyous, incredibly audacious life.

There is no time.

This is a dedication to Jose, my very joyous friend who dared to live an outlandish, incredible, satisfying life.  To his husband and partner, Tim, who died in his sleep decades too soon.  They showed us what true love looks like.  And to their son, Avery, who is not yet one, but smiles as if he knows the punch line to the joke of the Universe.  Tim, may you rest in peace knowing that I have never seen my friend so happy in all of the years we’ve known each other.  Avery has your eyes and every time we see his smile, we see your smile too.

 

 

 

 

 

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Amber
    Dec 14, 2013 @ 05:39:50

    What a beautifully written dedication blog, Jen. Such a wise and amazing sister you are…

    Reply

  2. Mary Lynn
    Dec 14, 2013 @ 08:37:04

    Xoxoxo xox big, loving hugs to you Precious One! Xo

    Reply

  3. Trackback: A Glimpse of a Girl | Memoirs of a Downward Facing Dog

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