Day Six: This is my Life

Looking at this beautiful bark, this is my life.


DAY SIX
This is my life. “This is my life.” This is my life.


Sometimes we have this funny idea, as if we are in some sort of rehearsal, and that later, “sometime,” our real life will start. Almost as if we are in some sort of prison, or suspended animation, and the “real thing,” is going to come along a bit later.

Or a lot later.

If we really are in prison, then we could definitely fall into this kind of thinking: when I get out of here, then I’ll start to live. And when out of prison, a person has a lot more options, and still, even in prison, that moment is that person’s life.
This moment in our life.

Right now.

Reading this book, or hearing this book, right now, this is your life.

Say it, if you would like, “This is my Life,” right now.

And as you say it, sense your arms and legs and sense your breathing, and be aware of what is in your visual field. Something out there we are pointing our eyes toward. The words on the page of this book. Notice their shape. Notice the shape of the white in between. Notice your hands holding the book. Notice what’s around as you read the book, or what’s in front of you as you listen to it.


Sensing, looking, breathing, noticing to yourself: “This is my life. Right now.”


That’s the game today, the “this is my life” game. The seeing what’s in front of us game. If we don’t like what we see, maybe we can fix it up a little, a new coat of paint, a new kind of light bulb, a bit of weeding in the garden, a walk to a nicer spot.
And if it’s somewhere we wish we weren’t, oh well: This is my life now, and sense and breathe and at least be true to the inner you in this each and every moment.

Good.