Let me give you a recent example and tell me if you've ever had a similar experience.
I have had pets most of my life. Cats, dogs, birds, fish, mice, ect. I enjoy the company of other species and surround myself with them. But there is one pet that I didn't exactly choose. I inherited him when my mother transitioned eight years ago. He's a restless little dog and very demanding. Not like my other pets. Unless he is completely exhausted, he's always on the move. He wants to be let out until he's out. He wants to be let back in until I let him back in. He wants to be in my lap when I am busy on the computer. He wants me to put him down when I pick him up to hold him. He's like a lot of people, actually, now that I think about it. ;-) I've known this creature for almost 16 years and even in his old age he is just as active as the first day I met him.
For all the years we've lived under the same roof, whenever I tell someone about this particular animal I say "I love him," and then qualify the statement by saying, "but I wouldn't have chosen a dog like him. He's too restless." I wanted him to be different. I wanted him to fit into my life the way I imagined that he should. And then one evening, not long ago, he stopped being restless. He became very still. Not resting. Deathly still. I wrapped him in a blanket and held him. And he let me. I talked to him for a long time. Hours. I checked his breathing. I stroked his head and looked into his eyes. A little guy this age doesn't have that many days left and I realized that he might be saying good-bye. He didn't seem to be in pain. So, I waited. And watched. And I was sorry. Sorry that I was wishing for something else when the little dog I had right here was so very special. I believe that if old dogs decide to leave this world quietly, you should let them. And, although I recognize that there is a spirit that lives in the body that never dies, I knew that I would miss him terribly when he departed this world. I began to cry. And I told him that I was sorry for all the missed opportunities that I could have spent interacting with him in his own unique way. If only...sound familiar?...if only he would stay a little longer, I would find a way to spend more time taking him for outings even if it was just to drive him around the block. He's quite old, so he can't walk as far as he used to, but I could drive him to the beach or take him camping...or really, really spend some time appreciating the little fellow...instead of complaining about him.
What do you think happened next? He climbed out of the blanket. He was shaky. I watched him and thought, okay, maybe he wants to live. It was 12:30a. by now, so I drove him to the closest veterinary clinic that I knew would be open. The tech took him to the back and after a few minutes, she called me into a room with a veterinarian. My little guy was walking around. He wasn't quite 100% yet, but he was going to be okay. We got back in the car and drove home.
The point of this story is simple: Every moment that we have is precious. My life is perfect. Your life is perfect. Even the moments that we judge as imperfect are wonderful...if we could only be present to the wonder. There is no place better to be than right here. There is no life better than the one you're living right now. We don't always get a second chance, so be sure to be present in the life that you have.
Namaste,
S.