Answers to a Nephew -- 4

--> This is the fourth section of my answers to my nephew.  If you have not read the previous sections, I advise you to read them now. 

“How have you changed your life knowing you have an expiration date?"


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The question about changing my life is really interesting. Since I don’t have a bucket list, I am not dropping everything to pursue one (as for instance in the movie The Bucket List). And I already mentioned that I/we have to deal with end of life issues. But what happens is another question presents itself: What should I be doing? How do I or what do I do to suck the marrow out of the remaining days? I really don’t know. That is troubling to me and I will work on this issue more as time goes on (though I hope for not too long as I would like to get on with whatever it is). But to help me I got to thinking of my two summers in Glacier Park in Montana. To me those two summers are absolutely golden. They are magic. They are highpoints of my life. I hiked all through the mountains, trying as many new trails as I could. During those experiences though I had a feeling of liberation and freedom—the mountains all around (I remember the thrill of seeing the first snows up high in late August when I was on my way to breakfast in the Boy Room), the sense of being in a very desirable place, and the sense of participating (we did a lot together—hiking, drinking, singing.) But then I begin to think of the realities there. I knew my magical time there would end. I lived in a dorm room with 6 other guys. The bathroom was down the hall. I worked in a gas station with a gravel surface that was dusty all the time. I pumped gas and washed bug-infested car windows and changed oil. In one way it was a pretty grungy existence..

So how can that magic appear in what I have now? What can I say? I lived the life that was there in front of me. What can I do now? Participate. Share. Love what I see. I have to admit I understand already in just a few days since The News that I really understand what it means to live for today and find joy in the now. The clouds have never looked so spectacular as they do these days. I think the answer is there. Should is not out there somewhere. A destination somewhere else. Should is here, now, and I have to participate in that reality as best I can, in spite of the dusty workplace and large shared dorm room.

I hope to write more on these topics and in the meantime I hope you will comment on my answers and share them with whomever. Eventually I will probably place this document on my blog. Thank you for the questions. I love doing this stuff—you have to confront the bad, stare it down--and I admire your willingness to wade in and ask.

Hi to all the kids. See you soon.

Love,

Uncle Dan