the red light...

The red light caresses my eyeballs for the eighteenth trillion time in my life and I realize how much life I have lived since first being introduced to the calming waves radiating out of this small painted bulb. I think, my god I was 13, give or take, when he showed me red lights.

A quarter of a century ago I was 13 and being seduced by the illusion of romantic love for the very first time, well maybe the second. And I was listening to dire straights and smoking parliaments and not inhaling. I was drinking wine coolers and crying with my best girlfriend about knowing each other on our deathbeds when we're forty. A quarter of a century ago, give or take.

And now I'm two years from 40 and god damn it there is a lot I want to do before I die. And I'm quite certain I have many more years before I run out of this proverbial time racket we all seem to buy into, but things are nutty right now, things seem nutty right now and it's got me thinking, I may not be dying in two years, but I am dying.

Which in turn begs the deeper question inside me which brings me to my knees in tears right here, right now, where I sit.

What in gods name am I doing not living?

What is it inside me that's keeping me from spending every moment I can doing something I love or at least finding something I love about every moment I'm in? It's not always so easy to walk away from the illusion of comfort and safety and control. And frankly many people out there literally can't walk away from these said illusions which when engaged with seem very, very real.

But I can. I can literally and metaphorically walk away from these illusions and follow what it is that's in my heart. So why? Why am I not?

It's a good question, it is, but perhaps the rub lies not in the answering THAT question. for it occurs to me answering that question is just more thinking, more examining, less doing. Perhaps the better question is what would it look like to live? What would it look like to live full out? For me?

I close my eyes and still sense the invitation of the light that has held my hand through all these years. I see a stage, I see a microphone, I see an audience. I see published books and award winning movies, I see a set where I go every day and get to play out loud doing what I love. I see people, people who make me laugh and fill me with delight. I see people who make my skin tingle and my senses come alive. I see airplanes and oceans, I see turquoise water and white beaches, I see Greece, I see Ireland, I see Africa, I see the Northern Lights. I feel..... And how do I feel?

I feel expanded, I feel expressed, I feel joy, loving and warmth. I feel connected, creative, unleashed. I feel energized and healthy and committed to that which is outside of me, to that which comes through me and I honor it. I feel alive.

The new question arises as I open my eyes and prepare for every new moment in front of me and the opportunity becomes clear. I turn out the red light by my bed and prepare for sleep. Sleep which will prepare me for tomorrow. Tomorrow which is the first day of the rest of my life.

Grateful for each and every thing I have and will experience in the history of my short time here on earth, grateful that I still have my red light and that I still love it, grateful that dire straights will always give me goosebumps, grateful that I no longer smoke parliaments and that I do still talk frequently to my best friend who, like me, is nowhere near her death bed and perhaps most of all grateful that I know what my gifts and talents are and that I know I am tasked to share them - -

I will wake up with the intention to create one or all of those feelings I tapped into while traversing the highways of my imagination in every single moment I can. Because I am dying. And no matter what is going on around me, I always, always have the choice to live.