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  • Writer's pictureErica Breau


What does it mean to die? Where do we go? Do we go anywhere, or is that it, the TV just shuts off? Shoooop. What is that moment like, standing on the precipice of the void. Do we get to decide when we don’t want to play the game anymore? Is there a fleeting moment where time doesn’t exist, where we stand face to face with ourself, witnessing our full history in a brief flash? 

Wow, what if I could really understand the gift in knowing that I will die one day. That each morning I wake up is a new day, a fresh start. To really feel in my heart what a blessing it is to be here, to experience this life. To truly allow myself to feel how much love I have to give, and how much is available receive.

How relieving it would be if I could break down the walls I’ve built. If I could see through my judgements and stories I have; I really am a great story teller! What would it feel like to really feel my feelings, to feel my heart? Oh… the time I spend locked in my self-built cage, hiding. Why? Why do I waste so much precious time living in fear? Not starting something – out of fear. Fear of failing, of being terrible, ungraceful. Oy.

Today I was present when a person left this reality. I did not know this person, nor do I know their family. I don’t fully know how I feel about their passing, I need some time. I do know that death is a part of life, and it will one day come calling for me. I also know that I want to be as present as I can, moment to moment, experiencing all the things life has to offer. The good, the not so good, the beauty and the beast. I want to live with my eyes wide open, my heart wild and pounding, and when death knocks on my door I can answer with open arms.

apr 10 (1 of 2)

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