I’m aware in a way I wasn’t when I was younger that my time on earth is finite. I’ve lost many I held dear, including my father, stepfather, and one of my three brothers. My mother, at 91, is fading. I belong now to the rising generation of elders.
Though there is at times an undercurrent of sorrow, this bone-deep sense of mortality does not depress me. It focuses me. It’s like a giant leaf blower blasting away the detritus of shit-that-doesn’t matter, clearing the deck so I can see what does. For me, that’s caring for friends, family, and community, and doing my best to be in right relationship with the wider family of humanity, the planet, and all non-human beings. And my creative work, which is, for me, both source and fulfillment.
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