Why Are You Waiting?

Weekly wisdom to bring you home, in 2 minutes.

A SHORT STORY

My wife laughs at me because she says I think about death way too much.

And she’s right.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my parents and the regrets they carried in the final days of their lives. The things said. The things left unsaid.

Recently, I came across a story about a Buddhist monk who guides people through an exercise about their last day on earth.

He asks them to imagine it clearly. The room. The air. The feeling in their body.

Then he says, who would you call?

What would you say?

And why are you waiting?

It is that third question that I keep thinking about.

Why am I waiting?

Why am I waiting to speak from that place of love? 

I hope that question stays with you today, the way it has been staying with me.

A POEM

“Thank You” by Ross Gay

If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth’s great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden’s dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.

Grateful,

Michael