My dad is turning 55, and my mom will soon be 50. My goddaughter to be is already 14 months old, and I’m about to turn 27. For a girl who thought she would pass before 23, but always felt like a 100 years old soul, 27 years feels like an eternity.
I really never got the age thing, always felt like the number of years wasn’t matching the way I felt inside my head, my heart. As a child, I felt my mind was definitely older than my body, yet my heart wasn’t following along. Even today, I still feel like I have that old lady way of thinking, yet this very childish heart to take care of.
It did not matter as much when I was young, I knew rationally that I have plenty of years ahead of me to deal with those gaps between my mind, heart and body, to try to unite it all into something that made sense. But the older I get, the more I am realizing how fragile our lives are. The three cyclists, hit by a tired driver, who will never get to the Ironman they were training for. This ex-boyfriend, a young firefighter, who died way too soon at 23. This friend who desperately needed help, and decided to end his life.
It’s there, I can’t push it inside. With my grandpa having to go under surgery this week, I am being confronted more than ever with the harsh reality of our human materiality. I already had a sense of urgency to live strong, already had the need to fully live every precious moment I get on this earth. Conscious that I would never have enough time to do all there is to do, to all that I want to achieve. I can’t escape the physical constraint of life, this sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, the only certainty in our lives, the thing that will never change: I, and the ones that I love, you, and me, will one day die.
Given the tendency we have to live most of our life in our head, it would be easy to escape that unpleasant truth through some mental distractions. To get away from the discomfort and lean into some projects to keep busy and avoid the pain related to attachment.
This time though, I won’t. I feel the urge to embrace that physical constraint with my whole being, rough and tough. To let go of that fictive life to be even more into that body that one day will seize to be. To stop thinking and start doing. To live with my guts, not waiting anymore to be perfect to teach yoga, because there is already plenty to teach when you choose to be. I feel the urge to get out there, to create something concrete, inspired and lead by my heart. To build a house with my two hands, to build a house with my heart, to create a special place we can call home. To eat more to fill out that hole in order for that hole to become a nurturing and welcoming nest for a soon-to-be new human being. To rely no more on phone calls and Skype conversations to say I love you. To be there with you so that we don’t even need to say it, because we simply know it to be true.
Dad, I love you.