…last night, and it was a strange one. I was in an old frame house, surrounded by people I knew, most of whom have passed on to reap what they had sown. I was asked how old I was, and I responded that I was 56 years old, almost 57. Even in the dream, that age gave me a bit of pause, meaning that I had outlived my father’s lifetime by three (almost four) years. But I digress.
You see, in the dream, I was dead. I was being met by those who had gone before me… which meant that the ones in the dream who are still among the breathing, were represented as having passed before me. (Fear not, you were undoubtedly not among them!) Then, an old man stepped out of the small gathering of people in the cramped room of my subconscious and proceeded to speak. He explained, in great detail, that none of us are the same person we used to be. In fact, all of us slowly change from one person to another throughout our lives. I had to think on this for a moment, so the old man paused.
He went on to point out that I wasn’t the same man at 25 that I was at 16. I had changed. I wasn’t the same man at 35 that I was at 25, nor at 45 that I was at 35, and so on. He reminded me of how age and years change everything from the obvious, such as appearance, to the subtle, such as what foods we like to eat. Sort of like the bicycles on the fence above – basically the same in purpose, yet each different from the other. I suppose the stages of life are like that.
I awoke with the old man’s words fresh in my mind. Coupled with the wondering of what man I would be at 56, almost 57 years old. Fearful that perhaps the premonition set before me in the dream was a true one. Pondering what I should do different if life only has seven, or so, years left on my ticket. I had to think on that for a bit. After all, that is a bit to think on, isn’t it?
I came to the conclusion that, while I am undoubtedly not the same man as I was 30 years, or 20 years, or 10 years ago, I’m still me. I still see the world through the same nearsighted eyes that those men saw it through, and for the most part, it still looks the same as it always has. I decided that life isn’t something we live out in increments of five or ten years, but something we navigate on a minute-by-minute basis, one day after the next. And I’m figuring it will be that way until all the grains of sand have passed through my hour glass. I can’t imagine it being any other way. Can you?
Every day we wake up with new opportunities. We choose which baggage to hold on to, and which to set down. And we move on. Some days we are happy, and others we aren’t, but in the final analysis, it’s our choice. And if I truly do have only seven, or so, years left among the breathing, I don’t see that I would live them any different than I will today. We’re not assured of anything, are we?
Today, I choose to be happy and live my life as best I can. I don’t think that old man would take any issue with that. And personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Would you?
Peace and prayers.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you can measure life in terms of years. I think longevity doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with happiness. I mean happiness comes from facing challenges and going out on a limb and taking risks. If you’re not willing to take a risk for something you really care about, you might as well be dead.” – Andrew Schneider
“If you ask what is the single most important key to longevity, I would have to say it is avoiding worry, stress and tension. And if you didn’t ask me, I’d still have to say it.” – George Burns
“The quality, not the longevity, of one’s life is what is important.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
