No one can truly prepare for the day or split second when their life will end. The inertia and gravity of that solitary moment is inescapable. It’s a truth that inspires, paralyses and haunts us all. That split second when, consciously or not, a lifetime of theories, addictions and personal evolution collide in reckoning.
This time came for me the final morning of my holiday. My first alone, on my most sacred place on earth. Transformed by a week of daily swims in the ocean, writing and endless sunrises and sunsets of reflection and clarity – I arrived in my room. Wet, sandy and present, the news came in the form of a public alert that no one could prepare for. A Korean missile was headed our way.
Time was not mine to assume. I put down my phone. My gate and breath slowed, as I walked to the lanai to face the sunrise lit bay that had greeted my every morning since I arrived. I seated and centered myself in breath. Without effort, my soul and consciousness took stock. Regret never arrived. There was no one to call to express what hadn’t been. My love for them was known. Grievances cleared. No “what ifs” ever consumed my space. My direction was clear, focused purely and wholly upon that beautiful bay and place that had resurrected me. I said thank you. I said I’m sorry – for all that would be lost on earth and for those that would be left behind to heal. Peace and acceptance took all the noise of fear away. And at that moment, my time, I replied “I’m ready.”