“Life keeps leading to more life,” Rumi said.
And I know it’s true even as I keep frantically grasping for something solid to hold onto. These children, growing up before my eyes. These grandparents, growing old before my eyes. These moments are like silvery fish in a mountain creek, impossible to grasp but made more beautiful by their ethereal movement — shimmering, shining, always, always moving.
“Don’t brace yourself,” my mother-in-love told me the other day. She was speaking to my fears that my remaining days with my grandmother may be short. (Or maybe they won’t… God only knows.) But her point was simple: We miss the living if we’re preparing for what’s next. Eyes clenched. Breath held. Stomach knotted. White-knuckling through the days. We miss it all.
We miss the living.
This little farm isn’t magical. But my time here always feels as though it is because I slow down and step away from the normal rhythms of my life and step into intentionality. I don’t try to accomplish much. I notice how much the tree has grown. I savor the time I have left with two of the most important people in my life. I pay attention to the ordinary moments, with them and with my children; I pay attention to the beauty of each little silvery fish of a moment. I feel awake. I’m more aware of how it’s all slipping through my fingers. Truthfully it leaves me feeling a little shaky and vulnerable, knowing my tender side is exposed and unbraced for whatever comes next.
But I know what comes next.
Life keeps leading to more life. Maybe it’s just one more way to say from dust you came and to dust you shall return.
So run towards the sunset. Chase it down. Another day is done, but it is good. Life keeps leading to more life, more beauty, more ethereal, shimmering moments if we are awake and paying attention.
And I preach to myself: Do not be afraid. More life is always enough.