How Would You Be On Your Last Day

I’ve always kinda hated when I hear that saying ‘live each day as though it was your last’. I mean, the pressure. And the immediate surveying of my life and thinking well shit, I wouldn’t go to work. I wouldn’t sit at this desk all day. I wouldn’t eat this freaking salad.

But I’m realizing that sentiment is much better to ponder and practice when you apply it to your sense of being rather than your doing. It helps to think of it with way less emphasis on what you’d do and much more emphasis on how you’d do it. Not so much about what you’d eat (although, duh, this is priority number one) or where you’d go, what music you’d listen to, who you’d spend time with. More about how you would do all of that. 

If it was my last day, I’d move like a sloth. Whatever I did, I would do it slower, basking in the moment simply because it exists. I’d eat my salad with monk-level mindfulness and appreciation. I’d take the trash out with a reverence and flair, like a lead actress carrying the audience through an oh so mundane part of my life. I’d go to work and I wouldn’t change an ounce of who I am to appear more *professional*. I wouldn’t resist or complain about my material circumstances, but greet them as the wise teachers that they are, knowing the river of change will carry me to something new when I’m truly ready. I’d look around at the billion tiny wonders of human creation all around me. Buildings, bicycles, roads, window displays, orange cones. It’s all really crazy when you think about it. Life and all that’s here now and all that’s been throughout the ages. I’d take deep breaths of the fresh air outside. And deep breaths of the air inside. I’d look up at the trees with the most potent presence imaginable, my eyes filling with tears. I’d let music move me, closing my eyes and taking it in with my heart wide open, feeling chills throughout my body. I’d tell my truth to whoever’s in front of me, and listen to theirs. I’d be much more vulnerable and open. What’s there to lose? I’d thank my body for everything it’s done for me. I’d thank the whole world for everything. I’d get a maple scone at the cafe down the street and savor every bite, sending a big thank you out to whoever invented scones. I’d hug my baby Gary extra extra, and give him extra extra treats. I’d look up at the night sky, at the majestic blanket of stars and feel comfort knowing the universe is vast, incomprehensible, and so full of love.