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Dear Friend, On the second day of our Aging Gratefully workshop last year, Paul raised his hand and asked a question something like this: “How do those of us who have not yet had to face a terminal illness or near-death experience remind ourselves to live gratefully?” The hush in the room indicated that others were touched by Paul’s sincerity. And so was I. It’s a really important question. Truthfully, as the acuteness of my own “end-stage” prognosis fades into my history, I recognize that it takes more intention and attention to live gratefully, and so Paul’s question is also my own. What helps wake us up—and keep us awake—to more fully appreciate the lives that we have right now? In our everyday moments and actions, I believe that it’s about being willing to remember, over and over again, just how precious and fleeting this life is. The other day, I was saying goodbye to someone I love a lot. She was about twenty feet away, her hand on the door handle, about to leave my house after a not-so-easy time together. I was feeling somewhat tired and persnickety and in need of time alone. As I stood there, a question flashed through me: What would I miss if I never got to see this person again? And then, just as quickly and vividly, came the answer: Everything. Everything? I asked myself. Yes, I thought. Every single thing. Even the things that right now might drive me a little crazy. And so, reminded of this truth, I walked over, met her eyes, and let her know how much I love and appreciate her. It was the kind of goodbye I was very glad to have, and one I knew I would never regret. What makes us reach for one another across distance and difference? What helps us put down the burden of grievances and forgive more readily? What emboldens us to share the truer truths of our tender hearts? How do the choices that we make express what actually matters most to us? How can we accept and celebrate the life we have right now, exactly as it is? How might we simultaneously grieve our losses and honor the beauty that remains? These kinds of questions—and so many others I spend time pondering these days—are consequential. We want to live with consequential questions and conversations; they remind us of what matters, deliver perspective, and can change us in meaningful ways. Consider these consequences: We wake up to greater love when we can be courageous enough to remember what we might miss if it were no longer here. We are more able to cherish what we have when we remember its impermanence. We see that living gratefully each day may be found in the simple practice of asking ourselves what we are taking for granted and intentionally opening our hearts to how much it actually matters to us. There is an exquisite joy and simplicity to living gratefully, and when we have moments of it, we naturally want to string more of them together. It makes life feel far more meaningful. This is why we need consequential practices and reminders. It’s what Paul was asking about. But walking through life with our hearts wide open requires our courage and vulnerability. One of Mary Oliver’s most well-known lines comes from the poem The Summer Day, and it is a consequential question: “…what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” This line is emblazoned on T-shirts, tattoos, billboards, and more. TBH (to be honest), I wake up to it etched on a beautiful plaque across from my bed. But without the poem’s context, the line feels like it’s asking us about our life’s purpose, career path, or bucket list. Notice how differently the line reads when I add its precursor: …Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life? When we are reminded, or are brave enough to remind ourselves, that everything we cherish is only ours for an unknown time, it can feel poignant. But we also know it as the truth. And this truth is the secret sauce. It directs us to live our moments with appreciative presence, not taking any of what life offers us for granted. Even the stuff that might make us crazy sometimes. The focus of this museletter means a lot to me. Below, I share a moving poem by Meg Falley that—as you will see—was very consequential for me, as poetry so often is. I also share a podcast with Terry Patten that is longer than I wish, but I would not take a minute out of it. It is profound and worth the listen. I am also reminding you about my upcoming workshop because I would truly love for you to be there. No matter how old you are or aren’t, if you value the sentiments of these museletters, this workshop will speak to your heart and just might be consequential in ways that will mean a lot to you. I hope the words and resources in this museletter, and on my website, support you to live your life gratefully, now. I am so grateful to be in community with you. Please freely share this museletter with others in your community who might be interested, if you are so moved. Thank you. From my heart to yours -
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