013 | I Am Alive Another Day
9:57 AM , Monday
Patio of my Coffee Shop (forgot to take a pic 😬)
Dear Friends,
It's Monday. I tried writing a few times yesterday and it just didn't work out. If you missed last week's letter, a good friend of mine, Beck, died about a week ago. Saturday was her celebration service.
People came from all over the country to celebrate Beck.
We gathered in one her favorite places, her CrossFit gym.
I was so sad yesterday and trying to be present. I wandered. I walked. I drank tea. Listened to music. Cried a lot. I was just overwhelmed with sadness, and that was well.
But this morning, I sat outside on the patio of my coffee shop, and I started to write, and it seemed fitting to share some of that writing with you.
It's strange, but I feel myself coming to life again ... or rather, not again, but I feel life here. Life present. Life now. Coursing. Moving. Taking away and bringing.
How did this life come to me today?
First, it came with getting physical rest in sleep. 10 hours of it. Then it came in listening to my intuition, which said, "Get out of this place (my room) where you are physically by yourself. Go where there is the comfort of the familiar. Where people know you and you are known. Even if you feel you are not bringing the most alive version of yourself, bring all of you, in your sadness and trying to not get stuck-ness."
So I went to my coffee shop where I work.
Maybe this is what it is to be alive ... to bring all of yourself to every moment, even if that version is not particularly presentable or upbeat. It is all of you.
A lot my friends lately have been encouraging me in my music, saying, "Keep telling the truth." And I feel those words speaking, as well, to my every day moments ... tell the truth, especially to yourself.
Be honest with myself and how I am feeling and what I need, which is always evolving, so I need to be continuously checking in. Maybe this is what it means to be alive ... to always be present and honest within each moment.
The day after Beck died, I was wandering around Boulder and came upon a used bookstore. The spine of one book buried within a stack immediately caught my eye, but I'm not supposed to be buying books right now (a self-imposed temporary restriction). I had $2 in my bag and thought, if it's $2 or less, I'll buy it. It was $2.
In the initial pages, he talks about regrets he has, and how he wished he'd lived differently, and upon realizing he is still alive, he decides to live in all the ways he may one day wish he had.
He goes on to talk about death, and how he has been given 30+ years already and how those have been a gift, that many are only given a few. He then resolves to accept his death now as he continues to live each day. The last two lines have been seared in my mind, and I think of them now as I set out into the day.
I AM ALIVE ANOTHER DAY.
I THINK OF THOSE WHO AREN'T.
Much love to you all,
—Shel
