I can’t call this “The Meaning of Life” without rolling my eyes

I saw some kind of motivational spiel on YouTube last year. About how to know your purpose in life in five minutes.
The guy said, “Imagine that you’re going to die in three months. Get quiet with yourself. What would you want to spend those last three months doing?”
Honestly, my answer has not changed much. I think about this, sometimes.

I think about death and passage a lot. Well, probably just more so than the average person. I consider myself a witch, but not completely. I’m not Pagan, just not my cuppa, and don’t have any solid core practices really. So I prefer to leave the full on identity of the term Witch to those who I personally feel have earned it… 

It sounds pretentious in the extreme to write aloud, but privately I tend to refer to myself as a Shadowseer.

And as one who is more comfortable dealing in betweens and endings, I find myself thinking about Death. 

The other white meat. XD

Death is a part of Life. Not something to be afraid of…
Not that, on occasion, I haven’t found myself “raging against the dying of the light”. I’m still human, after all. I think? lol
But mostly, I would welcome it… Like, fuckin’ BOOM. The worst is over. Finally at peace. No more questions, and no more striving. And either deciding to do it all the fuck over again, or re-joining the Light…

You would not believe how joyfully and blandly I’m saying this. 

I’m not depressed. Not suicidal.

(Well… No more so than any other mother of a two-year-old who is currently sick! LOL)
Blah. Back to the topic.
So. What would you do if you found out you only had three months to live?


The biggest thing that would upset me and drive me would be that I couldn’t be there for my daughter when she’s older. It’s a frustrating dichotomy, and not something that I’m really inviting opinion on, but I find these early years so incredibly taxing to put up with. I’ve always looked forward to helping her grow more as she gets older. But these first years, man? They’re for the birds. (YesIKnowTheyAreFoundationalShaddup)
Honestly… I would probably just do what I’m doing now. It sounds silly, but I’m assembling books and Tumblr articles and writing out my own thoughts to become an anthology of wisdom and knowledge about the world. Things I had to come to late in life, truths I had to relearn. 

I want them to be hers from the get-go. I want her to know her potential as a woman, the history of the women before and around her, that she’s powerful and strong and brave and capable and smart and made of magic. And that every other fucking person on the planet is too. That they are worthy of compassion and kindness, or correction if others need to be protected from them. 
Truly, I feel OK about my own life. What I have done, what I have learned, what I have experienced. It’s hers that drives me now… I wouldn’t feel like I’ve missed out on anything to die in three months except getting to help her.

Wow. That actually made me cry. Alrighty then.
(And believe me, I have thought all of the materialistic and hedonistic thoughts. I’m no saint. Honestly, maybe I’m just lazy, but I would rather experience vacations on Bora-Bora and in the Alps zooming around in my astral body thankyouverymuch.)
So, I write. And to have more things to write about, I keep expanding my mind, keep expanding my experiences. The more people I meet, the more people I love, the more people whose stories I hear… Everyone has something to share with me, everyone leaves a fingerprint on me somewhere. And it expands me, makes me a more understanding and compassionate person. And gives me perspective that I can pass on to her.
Some of this sounds very unfeeling and unmaternal to my ears. I don’t know why… Yes I do. Because this wasn’t how my mom loved. Rather than focusing on what she got wrong, I will say the one thing that she did right that I want to do. 

“Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean that you won’t enjoy it. I was afraid of ________, but that doesn’t mean you have to be.”

As my mom gets older, and we grow further and further apart, I get to know the reality of her passing on. Probably before I will, but who knows? But these two things, these are the lights in my heart that I bear from her. These are what I am eternally grateful to her for.
C.S. Lewis said that Love is a steady wish for the Loved person’s highest good, as far as it can be obtained. 

That’s what I have for my daughter.
But… I have to be careful. I have to be careful that I don’t insert what I believe to be the highest good over what her own soul and the Universe know. So I want to collect Everything. I just… I want to lay the world at her feet. Teach her how to read it. Then let her become the glorious dragon – butterfly I know she is.
And hey! If I’m going to be writing down all this shit for her, maybe I can help a few other people along the way…

That’s what lights me up. Several garage parking floors below being there for my daughter, but the thought of helping other people grow and get free and fall in love with themselves? 
That’s the good life!!!! 🙂

Cheers,

Sarah

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Author: enlightenedblabbermouth

The point of life is growth, with beauty to keep the soul fed. I have been writing all my life (napkins covered in poetry at 6), and I've been encouraged now to give away my perspective. Earthling, human, American, possibly part panda, reader in more ways than one, mommy prime and badass wife. Librocubicularist. I paint occasionally. Life is wierd, man. But we're all in it together. Let's talk.

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