Day 45

I have this personal humidifier that I use every day as a way to manage chronic sinus problems (I'll spare you the details). It broke this morning. I know it's silly but I am starting to be afraid to touch things for fear they will turn to rubble. It started last week. Bill's computer got a nasty virus and had to be replaced. A few days later the monitor went out on my computer necessitating a $150 purchase. Yesterday (this one is my favorite), Bill pulled up in front of the house and pulled the door lever on his truck to get out. It wouldn't open. I only wish I had been there to see my larger than average husband get out of a smaller than average vehicle by making his way across a cluttered seat to reach the passenger side door. Anyway, we're out hundreds of dollars and counting. For a couple of frugalistas like us it's a little disconcerting.

At the same time it's also a reminder that nothing lasts. For most of my life I have tried to avoid thoughts about the impermanent nature of all the things that make up the universe. The truth is that all the things I love, whether it be my humidifier or my beloved, will someday pass on.

I am reading a great book titled The Courage for Peace: Daring to Create Harmony in Ourselves and the World. The author, Louise Diamond talks about her experiences when she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. She went to a therapist who said:

So you are going to die. So what? Everyone is going to die. Maybe you have a better idea of how and when than most of us. Maybe not. You could outlive us all. Or you could leave this office and be hit by a car. If you feel sorry for yourself, I'm sure you have many friends who will join you with their pity. But there is another way to think about this. Imagine that Death, which is present for all of us, is just over your shoulder. Don't ask if you're going to die, or when; ask yourself how you want to be when Death comes for you.

WOW.

I am trying to learn to live each moment in peace. I can only do that when I recognize a basic truth: this moment is all there is and all I have. I am meditating on this as I sweep up the remains of my crumbling material possessions.