There are moments in my life when I fleetingly wish it was time to leave my body completely behind and fully return to the realm of pure spirit because it feels daunting when I consider the possibility of living with the loss of my son for an additional thirty years or more. Ah, the trickster known as Time - it continues to play games.
When we are young, we often look ahead, wishing we were just that little bit older. The ten-year-old thinking that if only he were thirteen, how wonderful life would be - a high school student with no need for babysitters, along with permission to venture further afield with friends. The thirteen-year-old wishing she were sixteen, offering the independence of driving, as well as greater opportunity for part-time jobs. The seventeen-year-old looking ahead to being twenty-one, imagining free reign to fully enjoy the privileges that come with that age. In each of these scenarios, the space that exists between the current self and the future self looms large. Of course, as we age, our vantage point shows us just how fleeting each stage of life really is. To take it one step further, an entire lifetime, when held up against all the lives one has already lived and those yet to come, happens in the blink of an eye. Yoga and meditation, once again, lovingly nudge my focus to the present.