Because of three deaths in one month, I consider my own mortality. In the past, I assumed that I would be like my grandfather, mother, and father, and live until I reached my mid-nineties. For the first time, I understand that no one knows the date of their death, or when or how it will come. Everything feels more urgent now. What is important? How do I want to live? Oddly, rather than meditate or pray about the bigger questions, I am driven to clean up my surroundings, to clear out closets, the basement, the garage, and my shelves. Today I filled a huge box full of paper, almost all of it replicated in documents stored on my computer. Plus I’m slowly cleaning the rug in our bedroom using Dr. Bronner’s soap and elbow grease. With decreased clutter in my home, these big questions are welcome to return. I’d like them to.
My Tiny Career
