A friend of mine just called to say that her good friend had a stroke. She’s in a coma now, and the doctors say it isn’t likely that she’ll come out of it. If she does, chances are that the brain damage she’s suffered means that she will never walk or talk again. She’s married. Her children are 4 years old and 5 months old.
It feels so hard to make any sense of this happening to a woman who should by all rights be in the prime of her life. Not that a debilitating health issue or the loss of a life ever feels like it makes sense. My 43rd birthday is a few weeks away, and these tragedies have already touched the lives of people I love:
- My host-sister of the family I lived with for a year as an exchange student fell in the bathroom and died, leaving two children under the age of four motherless
- A friend and former classmate of mine died of brain cancer just before turning 30
- A friend and former colleague of mine broke his neck and is now quadriplegic
- A friend and former housemate gave birth to a child with congenital myotonic dystrophy and, because it’s a genetic disease, was then tested and found that both she and her mother also have the disease
And then there are all my close friends who have battled some form of cancer before the age of 50: breast cancer, kidney cancer, tonsil cancer, bone cancer, brain cancer, non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
When I was younger, I never imagined that by this age my life would be touched by so much loss. My friends are people who are proactive in dealing with their health and well-being. They are non-smokers and physically active. They are curious about the world and open to learning and growing. They eat food that is healthier than most Americans these days. They are thoughtful and considered in decisions they make. They have lived lives that most would consider to be lives of considerable privilege and abundance. They are smart and extremely well educated. They have great jobs and good health care coverage. They have had loving relationships or are married. They are all loved by friends and family alike.
To see lives like theirs change so dramatically or be cut so short has been hard. Hard because they and their futures were filled with such promise. Hard because, for those who have died, I wasn’t prepared for the bright light that they were, that I loved being near, to be extinguished from the world. Hard because when I want to see them and hug them and listen to their stories about whatever is happening in their lives or share my stories with them, I can’t just call them on the phone or get together for a walk or a cup of tea.
Perhaps it is especially hard because they tried to do all the “right” things — whatever that means — to live long, full lives. And even so, they weren’t able to prevent whatever it was that happened to them. So, where does that leave me? Where does that leave all of us who are still here, trying to grieve and find some way to go on? How do we come to terms with the fact that so much of life is out of our control without feeling helpless and paralyzed? How do we live each day without having fear step in to pull us from the present moment and into the past that we miss or the future we wish we could control more than we actually can? How do we effectively find the balance between planning and preparing for the future and whatever life may bring and living each day to the fullest?
The path to finding balance is to:
- focus on what matters most to you – both today and for your future
- make the most of every moment of every day by being present
Are you clear about what matters most to you? If not, it’s worth taking the time to step back and clarify what you value and what your priorities are. Make a list of how you want to spend your time, what you want to accomplish, who you want to be, what you want to do with your one wild and precious life.
Beginning today, choose to focus your time and energy on the important things, rather than the things that seem urgent.
What are the things that you want most in your life today? Here are some of the things that matter most to me:
- spending time with the people I love
- being a life-long learner and living from a place of curiosity
- getting exercise and eating healthy food
- being generous and giving more than I take
- helping people in need and trying to make the world a better place
- spending time in nature and living lightly on the earth
- having quiet, empty time alone
- developing and nurturing deep personal connections with my family and friends
- living below my means and creating financial security
- being present and grateful for every day
Being present is about how I approach what I do each moment of every day. It comes from the desire to not miss a second of this amazingly beautiful, incredibly precious life. It is choosing to show up and be fully engaged in whatever I am doing – whether it is going on a run or clipping my 88-year-old mother’s toenails or talking on the phone with a friend or shopping for groceries. It is about giving whatever is happening right now my complete and undivided attention. It is by being present that I can find the beauty in whatever is happening. And in my experience, there is beauty in everything that life brings — even the grief. All I know is that I want to live my life fully. And I can’t do that if I’m thinking about the past or worrying about the future. Yes, I take care of the things that need to be in place for the future, but even when I am doing that, I try to give that (finding a health care plan, figuring out my budget, optimizing my asset allocation) my full and undivided attention. It’s when I distract myself by believing thoughts that I should be somewhere else, doing something else, that I find I’m unhappy. So, rather than just believing those thoughts, I choose to question them and then return to the task at hand, which is living each moment as it arrives. For after all, that’s all we ever have.
