Shaping Life

I’ve been thinking today about consciously shaping one’s life. I was in the middle of a rambling post about how to live, how to die (yes, Shakespeare, every third thought is my death) when I was interrupted by a call from a weeping family member. She asked me if I had some suggestions about how to talk to a five-year-old about death.


What do you say to a five-year-old about death? I wish I could give her a hug. Some things are best communicated through presence, the embrace of a body, a very literal reminding that someone is loved and that you are here—right here—for them. I can’t hug her, though. Too many miles between us. So I gave her some words.

Words are what I have.

I like words. I like people who like words.

Why am I with them so seldom now?

I enjoy a luscious phrase cascading. I savor a well-written verse, even as I struggle to release the logical mind seeking specific meaning, absolutes and open myself to the sensation of the words. Invoking, dispelling, confounding, revealing: the craft can elevate or demean and always, always I am reaching.

I am so happy when I’m with people who understand what it is to fall through a page and come out the other side changed. I expand in the energy of people who create: words, images, music, dance. Who are aware that life, too, is a creative choice. But the choices I’ve made in my life, sometimes from love, sometimes from fear, have not led me often to be with them.

I think it’s time to change that.

What do you say to a 53-year-old about death? Death is a long-time companion of mine. We’re on familiar terms. I know the dust waits.

I am considering my life, considering it as a creation, choosing the shape it should take. When “I” am over, who do I want to have been? Yes, I know: the poets and philosophers have always been delving this mine. But for most of us, these moments of crystal awareness are few. We should heed them. At least I should.

I’m going on a quest for words, and the people of words. The images will come along the way.

Self-Medicating with Games and Dog

Honestly, he’s likely better at platformers than Yours Truly.

Complex feelings this hectic month. I’ve been pushing to the very edge of my physical and emotional limits, and sometimes beyond. So I’ve been overtired. When I am overtired, my usual coping mechanisms aren’t enough to keep me functional, and so I resort to the opiate of the nerdy masses: video games.

Why, yes, I AM playing Dragonquest Builders 2 on the Switch, why do you ask?