There are times, sometimes, when I look back on my life and can see how everything that's happened has brought me to where I am.
All the people I've met, people I've loved, people I've traveled with and worked beside.
People I've lost. People I've let down. People I've hurt.
And everything (and everyone) in between.
All the ups and downs and tears and fears and fights and disappointment.
All the laughter, love, and joy.
Has brought me here now. Has taught me something.
Has molded and created the person you see before you.
In tiny moments of flashes of light, I see that it has only been through the careful and consistent decision to follow my heart and do what feels right that I've begun to grow into the person I was meant to be.
Somewhere along the line, something happens to people. We get a glimpse of our own mortality. Or someone else's.
And we begin to see, to grasp, to feel in our bones - that there is only so much time we have here. So much space to fill.
And suddenly, nothing else matters.
Nothing -- except the urgent, frantic, burning, bleeding, overwhelming need to love absolutely everything and everyone in our lives.
And to accept nothing less than the right people, the right work, and the right adventures.
To spend our time doing ONLY the things that really mean something. Or, at least, to do things differently now, savoring each moment: The soapy water in the sink, the colors in the produce section at the market, and the beautiful ritual of oil on your skin after a shower.
To be held, to breathe it all in, to hold each other a little longer. To linger. And connect. And love MORE. (And more. And more.)
To feel the sun on your skin, the earth beneath your feet, the rain on your tongue.
To buy flowers, to cook from scratch, to breathe, to snuggle, to sing, to dance, to PLAY.
Big or small, everything else (the fear, the pain, the anguish, the confusion, the overanalyzing, the anger, the perfectionism, the doing-too-much, the self-neglect, the self-doubt, the resentment, and all the wasted time and energy) must go.
Because there is, at long last, no space for it here.
Not anymore. And not ever again.
As much as we can help it!
Because life, it turns out, is far far FAR too short.
Blink - and it's gone.
In the meantime, I plan to make it count.
Every single gorgeous second of it.