I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own mortality. Not in the fearful way many do, but in a different way.

I know I will die someday. I’ve been there, uncertain about survival and unsure about even having a future, let alone what would happen during it. I don’t fear death at all. I have discovered a unique and surprising relationship with who I am and understand what that means. In that relationship, which was not born by my upbringing, or the faith I was born into, or some book I was forced to read, gives me great confidence in both where I am going and what it all means.

What I fear the most about my own mortality is what happens before that end. I fear not living, not squeezing every ounce of love and life I can out of this experience. I fear aging only from the sense of losing out on what life can provide, and on missing out on some experience that gives each moment purpose.

I know I will miss out on most of the lives of my children. I will miss seeing them become middle-aged, of becoming grandparents. I will miss most of the trials and tribulations they will face after I am gone. I know one day they will need me, and I will be unable to respond in my normal way. All I can do is hope that I can respond in a different way, in a way that raises a voice, a reaction, a thought within them that helps them in their times of need.

That’s why I spend as much time as I can as their teacher. I want to give them a voice to hear when they may need it when mine falls silent. I want to instill in them lessons that they can remember and, maybe, even pass on even when I am not around to remind them. I want them to be reminded of the joy I lived in, and how none of the struggles of this life held me down for very long. I want them to know resilience, and the fire that never wants to be extinguished within each of us.

To get there, I need more life. Many people ask me what’s led me to want to get in shape, to lose weight, and to live as healthy of a lifestyle as I can. Well, that’s it. I’m not done here and, hopefully, will not be done here for quite some time. I can’t control everything that affects life but, dammit, what I can control I will. I’m selfish that way. I want to live, live well, and not regret anything when it’s my time to leave.

Except of course, not having more time. Because I want infinity here.

I don’t believe in delay for delay’s sake. Taking your time just to take your time is a waste of time. Instead, live the amazing words of Rumi when he wrote,

‘Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.”

For some, living the safe life is their choice. For me, I want to throw some caution to the wind and do things differentlyI don’t want to be looking back on life with regrets for not having tried. I don’t want to be that shy kid in the corner regretting that he didn’t ask the cute girl to dance. I want to whisk her away and twirl until we are both dizzy with laughter. I don’t want to live according to rules, or conditions, that are not my own. I want to laugh inappropriately, stand firm when I must, and climb every fucking hill I can find regardless of how much I fear the heights.

Yeah…how’s that for intention? How’s that for living outside your comfort zone? I’ll know when something is outside of my current capability, but that doesn’t mean that the challenge of trying will be ruled out. I may not desire to climb Everest, but that doesn’t mean I am not interested into making it to the Hillary Step.  I may still get a little dizzy and have trouble with balance on the Manitou Inclines, but I will get to the top even if I have to crawl my way up there.

And that is, by the way, exactly what I did.

I may have been a blind boy who couldn’t see the forest for the trees, but an awakened man only briefly grieves lost time. What would be grief becomes a commitment to not losing any more, and to make the most of each moment. There is no delay worth making, no time worth wasting, and no experience unworthy of my attention if my Being reverberates with the energy of YES!

I like that energy.