Let it be duly noted that on Friday July 1st, 2016, (day 209, if you are counting) sometime after lunch, a thought came to me: the rest of my life may be too long to just spend arsing around.
This may not seem profound to you. Or you may think that the return of the Protestant Work Ethic to this Jew-by-choice is a good thing. It's the other half of the thought that struck me, though: I am going to live. Quite possibly a long time. I am above ground. Halleluja!
Obvious to you, but it has been impossible for me to grasp this firmly over the past six months. Intellectually I knew that Karen's death was not my death, but my heart was telling me something else. My heart was whispering "The reaper is coming for you. There's so much on the bucket list and so little time. Get it all done now. Don't waste any moments. You're almost gone." Long-term commitments--like 6 months on the Pacific Crest Trail or 6 years in rabbinical school--seemed foolish. I mean, with so little time left, how could I possibly devote such great chunks of it to single projects?
I knew it was wrong thinking, but I couldn't shake it.
And then that thought floated through my head: "it's a long, long time to be retired, dude." My heart is figuring things out.
The tentative return of a long time horizon is notable and welcome. Interesting. Precious. I may well spend many more months or years following my nose, satisfying myself, but it won't be because I'm on my last legs. It'll be because it's what I want to do, and what I can do, and a good use of this precious gift.