Live Like You Were Dying was on the radio when I got in the car on my way to yoga. I never listen to this song on purpose because it rips me, I mean rips me — but every time I happen to hear it, no matter what I have going on, it stops me in my tracks and brings me back to what is really important. All of us, no mater what happens today or tomorrow or the day after, will lose someone we love so much we can hardly think to breathe without them standing there — and if we’re really blessed, someone who loves us that much will lose us.
Considering I had just spent the past eight hours editing videos about cancer, it was the perfect song for the moment. I can’t tell you how many people I have known who lived like they were dying because they were, and ultimately too many of them did. Most of them, way too young. It’s humbling to think about. When I focus on it — like I did today in the car on the way to my mat — I end up in a ball of tears, simultaneously laughing at how blessed I really am in this moment. I learned something about life and how to live it from every one of them. My life is so much richer for it.
Sometimes we get so worked up about the moments we can’t control, we forget about the ones we can.
The only drawback to this reflective moment with Tim McGraw and Live Like You Were Dying was the fact that the DJ chose to follow it with the songs Beer Money and Something Bout a Truck. Beer. Trucks. Red Solo Cups. This is why my husband hates country music. (sigh)
I experienced an epiphany when I was editing a video earlier in the day. Oncologist, Kjell Oberg, literally beamed how happy he was to share with us information on his FAVORITE topic — neuroendocrine tumors. Can you imagine? I would rather watch paint dry — but how incredible is it that someone walks the earth who lives and breathes to learn everything they can about neuroendocrine tumors? Think about that. Think about all the great discoveries and advancements we have and will have because someone is following their passion. Honestly, it takes my breath away.
Think how even more amazing the world would be if we all could say that with a huge smile on our face about whatever we were doing?
By the time I got to my mat, I was in rare form. I had spent a good chunk of the day working incredibly hard, having every reason to be overwhelmed — but instead, I was marinating in gratitude. As a result, class was mind-blowingly awesome. Chaz was building on the theme from Monday, which prompted this whole 60 Days on the Mat — which is kinda scary, but I just keep ripping that page out of the story. If you don’t like the story on your page, rip that page out, start a new page. Tell the story you want to tell.
My story is getting better with each passing day. Suddenly all the things that were breaking my heart last week, were opening it this week. The heart is an amazing organ.
The images on the mat tonight were entertaining. For some strange reason, after my nine millionth crescent pose, I flashed back to fourth grade. We had a music show at Dunn Elementary and I sang Coal Miner’s Daughter with a coal mining hat on my head. I looked ridiculous. I never quite understood the hat. I tried to explain to the teacher that Loretta Lynn was not a coal miner, her father was, but she heard none of it — apparently I was too literal at nine.
Again, I was laughing to myself. I must look like a total nut. Luckily, one of the benefits of being over 40 is you actually stop caring how nutty you may or may not look. Life becomes more about being authentic and present and not so much about all that other stuff (aka: mishegoss) swirling around in our orbits.
Singing and writing. Singing and writing.
Always my passions. Always.
And then I wondered what Dr. Oberg did when he was in fourth grade that led him to love learning about neuroendocrine tumors? I’m going to ask him the next time I see him.
Class ended with a chant. Not our ordinary chant, but Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi.
Whooah, we’re half way there
Livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand and we’ll make it – I swear
Livin’ on a prayer
Yes, we are. And I’m grateful for it.