Jack- Wow you looked inside my brain. It’s truly the way I’ve thought about life since my wife died a year ago. A mindset that nothing can harm me, nothing can hurt me because I’m impervious to pain for some reason. Thanks for the PET scan my friend.
That hit me right in the chest, Tom...thank you for sharing that.
Losing someone you love changes the internal wiring in ways that no one can prepare you for. That sense of imperviousness you describe isn’t numbness...it’s the kind of strength that forms after the heart’s already been broken open once and survived.
You’re not denying pain...you’ve simply outgrown its power to define you.
And “thanks for the PET scan”... that’s one of the most honest...perfect lines I’ve ever heard. That’s exactly what this piece was meant to be: a scan that shows what’s really going on under the surface...and why it’s actually working for you.
I’m honored the words landed that deeply. You’re living proof of what happens when the worst has already happened...and you kept walking anyway.
One of my favorite pics of my grandson Evan with his friend Kitty. High functioning spectrum kiddo getting better each year. Last week asked him what’s his favorite class in school? Gym. No a real subject. Okay then recess!😊
Reason # 7 million to protest the tri-fuckta of rump, kegseth and krash patel. Only capital letter that applies? ICEHOLES.
I’ve done more than walk. Taken nine trips all over the US to reconnect with friends and family, some I haven’t seen in 30-60 years. Trying to spread love and kindness everywhere I go in honor of my Margo. It’s been fun. It’s been energizing.
Thank you Teri you’re so sweet. I’m blessed to have my two sons and their families and five grandkids nearby. We had a 52 year marriage but Alzheimer’s took her. I kept her safe until I couldn’t. ❤️💔
I believe my spouse at 80 is in the beginning stages of alzheimers and as an RN (retired). I know where this is headed but it does not make it any easier.
That’s an incredibly heavy reality to face, Teri.... and I’m deeply grateful you shared it.
Knowing what’s coming doesn’t soften the ache...it just gives it shape. The hardest part of love is watching someone you care for slowly drift into a place you can’t follow.
But what you carry...your medical knowledge...your empathy...your strength...will become the anchor they lean on without ever realizing it.
And even though this road hurts...your awareness gives you one quiet advantage: you can meet each moment as it comes...without illusion.
That presence...that steady calm...is love in its highest form.
I’m holding deep respect for you as you walk this chapter. The fact that you can see it clearly and still choose compassion means you’re already practicing the kind of courage most people never find.
Thank you Jack. I have always been a realist and my Home health care patients almost always wanted the truth not fluff. I tried to give them the facts as gently as I could with out being harsh or ordering them. I feel everyone has to make their own decisions re their health but they need to be well informed. The other issue my spouse has is long covid. It has taken forever to get the doctors to agree. I just kept bringing it up at every appt. Eventually they realize I have a brain. I also would bring articles I would find on Medscape or Substack written by doctors dealing with long covid. It is very interesting the doctors that have tithe write on substack/
Thanks, Jack. I’ve been living the ‘corpse life’ since being diagnosed with stage 4 aggressive bladder cancer. Now I can honestly say I fear nothing. Fear. No. Thing. Fearless! It’s hard to explain to someone, you did an incredibly accurate job! Kudos!
That means more than I can say, Elizabeth...thank you for sharing that...and for living it so fiercely.
What you wrote...Fear. No. Thing. ...is the purest expression of what I hoped to capture.
You’ve earned that truth the hardest way possible...and it radiates from every word. When someone reaches the point you’re describing...the rest of us can only listen and learn...because that’s not theory...that’s enlightenment forged in fire.
I’m deeply honored that this piece resonated with you. You’re walking proof of what happens when fear finally runs out of oxygen. Stay in that light...it’s unshakable...and it shows others what real freedom looks like.
If there is anything I can do for you, please...do not hesitate to ask.
That stopped me cold, Joanne....thank you for sharing that...and for being here to tell it.
You’ve walked through the doorway most people only theorize about. When someone’s been that close to the edge and still finds the words “I’m still here,” it carries a power nothing else can touch.
That’s living proof of what this whole issue was about: once you’ve met death face-to-face...fear loses its leverage.
Your story embodies the freedom the rest of us are trying to remember. I’m honored that the words resonated with someone who’s earned that kind of clarity the hardest way possible. Stay in touch...I think a lot of readers could draw strength from your experience if you’re ever open to me quoting you (anonymously, of course).
-Jack
P.S. By the way, my father had an aneurysm when he was 38 years old...collapsed and had a 10-hour brain surgery to clamp it. Fortunately, his didn't rupture...but was seeping...and his collapsing was the event that led to the discovery...that allowed for a rapid surgery. He just turned 83 in August. :)
Jack, I’m sorry your father went through that. Glad he’s okay. Most people hearing my story think I should be dead, but believe it or not only 50% of people with a rupture die. That means 50% live! Most of us have lasting deficits, not always obvious. Yes, of course you may quote me. I also have a Substack, where I’ve talked about my experiences. I call it Perseverance.
Thanks Jack. That makes such perfect sense. I’m at the “ nothing can stop me now” time of life, and what a difference it makes to my day to day living.
When you hit that “nothing can stop me now” phase...life gets unbelievably lighter. The small stuff stops biting. You move through the day with a kind of quiet power that doesn’t need to prove anything.
That’s the dividend of real acceptance...you stop negotiating with fear, and start living in full color again.
I love hearing that the message connected like that. You’re embodying the whole point of this issue...freedom through finality. Keep walking in that energy...it’s contagious in the best way.
Of all the ridiculous (and some pretty dangerous) situations I’ve put/found myself in, I don’t remember fearing imminent death. Of course, there’s that giving birth thing. 😬
Only once in a car accident (hit in the face by 4x4 ft. 4 in. Thick sheet of ice, per the highway patrol and witnesses) did I wonder if maybe I was.
Cold. No pain despite having seen blood spray from my head the covering it with a gloved hand. I could interact with everyone and everything appropriately but felt strangely detached.
Thank you for this. Having a bad health week, and thinking back on being asked by a med tech if I wanted to be rescusitated if I crashed during an MRI brought that realization that this could be it, and if it is, well, I did a lot of good things in my life. And if it is not, I still have a lot of good things to do and "extra time", like stoppage time in soccer, right?
That’s such a powerful reflection, Roberta...thank you for sharing it so honestly.
That moment in the MRI...when everything goes still and you realize this could be it...has a way of stripping everything unnecessary away.
What’s left is exactly what you just named: peace with what’s been done, and gratitude for whatever “stoppage time” remains.
That mindset...seeing every breath from here on out as bonus time...is exactly what I meant by the “Corpse Mind.”
You’ve already found it through experience, not theory. And you’re right… whether it’s the final whistle or one more round of play...there’s beauty either way.
I’m honored this piece met you in that space. Keep taking that bonus time personally...use it recklessly for good.
This reminds me of the 1981 film, My Dinner with Andre, in which Andre describes the life changing experience of a group psychodrama in which he was literally buried alive (for an hour or so) and then brought "back to life". It's an intriguing film, I'm dating myself by admitting to seeing it, but you should see it if you haven't.
That’s such a brilliant connection...thank you for bringing it up, Judith.
My Dinner with Andre captures that same threshold moment perfectly… that eerie beauty of being symbolically “buried” so you can wake up actually alive.
What Andre describes is the ritualized version of what I wrote about here...the nervous system finally surrendering its fight with mortality long enough for awareness to flood back in.
You’re not dating yourself...you’re reminding us that timeless truths keep resurfacing in every generation. I’ll rewatch it in the next month...it’s one of those films that lands deeper each decade you’re alive.
And thank you for being part of this community...the depth of references like yours keeps the conversation alive long after the scroll ends.
While you're at it, get a copy of the Japanese film, Departures. It's quite relevant to all of this, and if you can watch it without tearing up at the end, well, that would be something.
Personally, I'm watching Audrey Hepburn tonight in My Fair Lady.
Thank you,Jack. That was worth my annual subscription. A couple of months ago, I slipped on a rocky slope, fell and hit my head. When I heard the sound of my head hitting a rocky shelf, a voice in my head said, "I'm done." No other thoughts, no emotion. Clearly, I was not quite done, but the lack of fear or attachment struck me.
Beautifully said, Charlene...and I’m grateful you’re here with us.
That “I’m done” moment is exactly what I’m pointing to: the nervous system dropping the storyline...the amygdala going quiet...and a clean...fearless clarity stepping in.
No drama. No negotiation. Just presence. That’s the Corpse Mind showing up on its own...when there’s nothing left to defend...what remains is simple awareness and, strangely, peace.
If it serves you, try this add-on: for the next few days...tag any small good thing (warm cup, a breeze, a laugh) with “bonus time.”
It reinforces the shift your body already knows: you’ve got nothing to lose...and everything to notice.
Also, with your permission...I’d love to excerpt that line (“I’m done”) anonymously in a future piece. It’s a perfect illustration.
Thank you for being a paid subscriber...and for sharing a moment most people never talk about. Stay with it. The fearlessness you felt isn’t a fluke...it’s a doorway.
This!! At 76 yo I'm thankful for whatever time I have left here, but I'm also ready to go. It's true that I forget that acceptance sometimes, especially if I'm in pain, so thank you for the reminder. I look forward to your next message.
That’s beautifully said, Georgann...and it’s the heart of this entire practice.
That quiet readiness you describe isn’t resignation...it’s mastery.
Most people spend a lifetime trying to bargain with time; you’ve already made peace with it. Pain has a way of making us forget that...but every moment you remember… even for a breath…you’re free again.
Thank you for being here and for sharing that wisdom with everyone reading. I’ll keep sending reminders like this one...because your kind of clarity is exactly what the world needs more of.
I’ve been living in “extra time “ since a kidney and pancreas transplant 28 years ago. Some days I forget that I’m already dead. Thanks for the reminder. Look forward to the next post 👹
That’s incredible, Rachel...twenty-eight years of bonus time. What a testament to grit and grace.
That line...“Some days I forget that I’m already dead”...is perfect.
It captures the paradox exactly: when you’ve already faced the edge...every sunrise is a resurrection...and yet life’s noise can still make us forget how miraculous it is just to be here.
Thank you for that reminder right back. You’re living proof of what this issue was meant to celebrate...freedom through acceptance...courage through perspective...and humor in the face of everything.
I’m honored to have you reading...and I’ll keep sending more reminders for the warriors of “extra time.”
I lost everything in the CA Camp fire almost six years ago. Evacuated with the clothes on my back and a few out-the-door items- a backup hard drive, my trusty iPod, a camera. No photos, no personal effects. A coat or two, one (1) favorite t-shirt. For every other evacuation warning I stacked stuff like bankers boxes full of photos I’d not yet scanned, some going back 90 years. Boxes and boxes of my journals and writings going back to 8th grade I intended to transcribe “when I had more time”. And immeasurably more, but just the transportable normal personal accumulation of seven decades.
Gone.
Far worse was my shop, I’ve been a mechanic of one sort or another about from longer ago than the journals. I can’t begin to list the stuff- even though I had to for insurance. But go look at Craftsman tools these days. Miller welding equipment. Snap-On, DeWalt, more, much more, all from the era when the brands meant something. It had been my plan after I quit my business to provide care for my mom- that I could start up, this time just for myself. to get back into. Perhaps see what came out of the stuff I’d thought to create with what I had been saving up. Explore woodworking just for fun, not for resurfacing cabinets and fixing broken things.
Gone.
I recognized my entire past, save for that HDD was over, more or less for good. That past held the key to my future. I know this is not exactly the scenario called out for here, but it really triggered me, I feel like I’ve been The Walking Dead since the ashes cooled. I related to every fucking word here. Living only in the moment because that’s all there was. Still working on it. I’ll probably edit this in a bit.. Thanks.
Tom brilliant post. The other thing that can have you except death is having almost died. I almost died 3 different surgeries one that got botched one that was on my Mehta artery and only 40% of people that have that surgery survive and I came damn close to dying And one was my carotid artery. My brain shut down and rebooted so now I have no fear at all about dying since I actually did for about a minute or two when I have the credit auto surgery the other way I think you can do. This is the way you described But I also learned a lot by reading the untethered soul by Michael Singer michael talks about letting go he talks about if you resist reality you will suffer mightily and so every time I see myself resisting any reality at all I know it’s time to let go I have I did Study that book. I read it 35 times1 chapter 9 over and over again and it made a difference because now I noticed when I’m resisting anything and I let go of it.
Thanks, Jack. At 67 I’m at the short end and not the long. However, I still live a fully as possible. Why not? I lost my brother when he was 31, active duty death. I realized death didn’t capture his spirit and it certainly has no hold on me. I think that is why I tend to speak up and tell what it is because, why not? I appreciate your insight and how to not let something control that has no control.
Jack- Wow you looked inside my brain. It’s truly the way I’ve thought about life since my wife died a year ago. A mindset that nothing can harm me, nothing can hurt me because I’m impervious to pain for some reason. Thanks for the PET scan my friend.
That hit me right in the chest, Tom...thank you for sharing that.
Losing someone you love changes the internal wiring in ways that no one can prepare you for. That sense of imperviousness you describe isn’t numbness...it’s the kind of strength that forms after the heart’s already been broken open once and survived.
You’re not denying pain...you’ve simply outgrown its power to define you.
And “thanks for the PET scan”... that’s one of the most honest...perfect lines I’ve ever heard. That’s exactly what this piece was meant to be: a scan that shows what’s really going on under the surface...and why it’s actually working for you.
I’m honored the words landed that deeply. You’re living proof of what happens when the worst has already happened...and you kept walking anyway.
-Jack
Thanks Jack! I’m really looking forward to being deeply involved in your premium tier! Have you filled your 50 seats?
Outstanding, Tom! No…I haven’t, but…the hard copy newsletters begin December 1st….nonetheless🔥
Very cool! If the iceholes check my mailbox I’ll say a nice filmed hello and fuck you!!🔥🏴☠️☠️
LOL! I love it.
Fuck it. I’m so pissed. I’ll be there.
One of my favorite pics of my grandson Evan with his friend Kitty. High functioning spectrum kiddo getting better each year. Last week asked him what’s his favorite class in school? Gym. No a real subject. Okay then recess!😊
Reason # 7 million to protest the tri-fuckta of rump, kegseth and krash patel. Only capital letter that applies? ICEHOLES.
I’ve done more than walk. Taken nine trips all over the US to reconnect with friends and family, some I haven’t seen in 30-60 years. Trying to spread love and kindness everywhere I go in honor of my Margo. It’s been fun. It’s been energizing.
Sorry for our loss. I am glad you are doing okay.
Thank you Teri you’re so sweet. I’m blessed to have my two sons and their families and five grandkids nearby. We had a 52 year marriage but Alzheimer’s took her. I kept her safe until I couldn’t. ❤️💔
I believe my spouse at 80 is in the beginning stages of alzheimers and as an RN (retired). I know where this is headed but it does not make it any easier.
That’s an incredibly heavy reality to face, Teri.... and I’m deeply grateful you shared it.
Knowing what’s coming doesn’t soften the ache...it just gives it shape. The hardest part of love is watching someone you care for slowly drift into a place you can’t follow.
But what you carry...your medical knowledge...your empathy...your strength...will become the anchor they lean on without ever realizing it.
And even though this road hurts...your awareness gives you one quiet advantage: you can meet each moment as it comes...without illusion.
That presence...that steady calm...is love in its highest form.
I’m holding deep respect for you as you walk this chapter. The fact that you can see it clearly and still choose compassion means you’re already practicing the kind of courage most people never find.
-Jack
Thank you Jack. I have always been a realist and my Home health care patients almost always wanted the truth not fluff. I tried to give them the facts as gently as I could with out being harsh or ordering them. I feel everyone has to make their own decisions re their health but they need to be well informed. The other issue my spouse has is long covid. It has taken forever to get the doctors to agree. I just kept bringing it up at every appt. Eventually they realize I have a brain. I also would bring articles I would find on Medscape or Substack written by doctors dealing with long covid. It is very interesting the doctors that have tithe write on substack/
Wow, Teri. You are an Angel.
The new me: fucking fearless. Trying to help save the country for my grandkids.
I’m so sorry Teri. Here’s a song that Joyce Strong made for me.
https://open.substack.com/pub/joycemstrong/p/one-good-deed-for-margo-a-song?r=54ijcj&utm_medium=ios
Thank you
Here’s a beautiful song that one of my Substack friends gave me. Love it. I think you will too.
https://youtu.be/0glGd8Bw6uA
How lovely that your kids and theirs are nearby. I’m glad for that.
They are my life now. ❤️
You are all lucky to have one another. Enjoy every minute. I wish you all the best.
I cherish every moment and every day. Thank you! ❤️
Jack’s essay is spot on for me. I’m absolutely fearless now.
Thanks, Jack. I’ve been living the ‘corpse life’ since being diagnosed with stage 4 aggressive bladder cancer. Now I can honestly say I fear nothing. Fear. No. Thing. Fearless! It’s hard to explain to someone, you did an incredibly accurate job! Kudos!
That means more than I can say, Elizabeth...thank you for sharing that...and for living it so fiercely.
What you wrote...Fear. No. Thing. ...is the purest expression of what I hoped to capture.
You’ve earned that truth the hardest way possible...and it radiates from every word. When someone reaches the point you’re describing...the rest of us can only listen and learn...because that’s not theory...that’s enlightenment forged in fire.
I’m deeply honored that this piece resonated with you. You’re walking proof of what happens when fear finally runs out of oxygen. Stay in that light...it’s unshakable...and it shows others what real freedom looks like.
If there is anything I can do for you, please...do not hesitate to ask.
-Jack
It made the lesson easier to learn, believe it or not!
💙💙
Jack, I’m a Survivor of two ruptured brain aneurysms (twelve years apart), and every word you write here is true. I “died” but I’m still here.
That stopped me cold, Joanne....thank you for sharing that...and for being here to tell it.
You’ve walked through the doorway most people only theorize about. When someone’s been that close to the edge and still finds the words “I’m still here,” it carries a power nothing else can touch.
That’s living proof of what this whole issue was about: once you’ve met death face-to-face...fear loses its leverage.
Your story embodies the freedom the rest of us are trying to remember. I’m honored that the words resonated with someone who’s earned that kind of clarity the hardest way possible. Stay in touch...I think a lot of readers could draw strength from your experience if you’re ever open to me quoting you (anonymously, of course).
-Jack
P.S. By the way, my father had an aneurysm when he was 38 years old...collapsed and had a 10-hour brain surgery to clamp it. Fortunately, his didn't rupture...but was seeping...and his collapsing was the event that led to the discovery...that allowed for a rapid surgery. He just turned 83 in August. :)
Jack, I’m sorry your father went through that. Glad he’s okay. Most people hearing my story think I should be dead, but believe it or not only 50% of people with a rupture die. That means 50% live! Most of us have lasting deficits, not always obvious. Yes, of course you may quote me. I also have a Substack, where I’ve talked about my experiences. I call it Perseverance.
https://open.substack.com/pub/jrossfritz
Thanks Jack. That makes such perfect sense. I’m at the “ nothing can stop me now” time of life, and what a difference it makes to my day to day living.
That’s exactly it, Mo...beautifully said.
When you hit that “nothing can stop me now” phase...life gets unbelievably lighter. The small stuff stops biting. You move through the day with a kind of quiet power that doesn’t need to prove anything.
That’s the dividend of real acceptance...you stop negotiating with fear, and start living in full color again.
I love hearing that the message connected like that. You’re embodying the whole point of this issue...freedom through finality. Keep walking in that energy...it’s contagious in the best way.
-Jack
Thanks Jack. I used to say “ fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke” and sort of meant it. Now REALLY mean it! 😡
I might have said that…and meant it a few times in my life as well, Mo. 😉
Of all the ridiculous (and some pretty dangerous) situations I’ve put/found myself in, I don’t remember fearing imminent death. Of course, there’s that giving birth thing. 😬
Only once in a car accident (hit in the face by 4x4 ft. 4 in. Thick sheet of ice, per the highway patrol and witnesses) did I wonder if maybe I was.
Cold. No pain despite having seen blood spray from my head the covering it with a gloved hand. I could interact with everyone and everything appropriately but felt strangely detached.
I was in shock.
I was not dead.
So very calm, the calmest one there, in fact.
I’m looking forward very much to tomorrow.
Save me a seat.
See you all there.
LOL! You Go, Mo!
😂👍
Thank you for this. Having a bad health week, and thinking back on being asked by a med tech if I wanted to be rescusitated if I crashed during an MRI brought that realization that this could be it, and if it is, well, I did a lot of good things in my life. And if it is not, I still have a lot of good things to do and "extra time", like stoppage time in soccer, right?
That’s such a powerful reflection, Roberta...thank you for sharing it so honestly.
That moment in the MRI...when everything goes still and you realize this could be it...has a way of stripping everything unnecessary away.
What’s left is exactly what you just named: peace with what’s been done, and gratitude for whatever “stoppage time” remains.
That mindset...seeing every breath from here on out as bonus time...is exactly what I meant by the “Corpse Mind.”
You’ve already found it through experience, not theory. And you’re right… whether it’s the final whistle or one more round of play...there’s beauty either way.
I’m honored this piece met you in that space. Keep taking that bonus time personally...use it recklessly for good.
-Jack
Thank you for the response. Your posts have done me a lot of good.
You’re welcome. Your support has done this newsletter a lot of good. 💙🔥
This reminds me of the 1981 film, My Dinner with Andre, in which Andre describes the life changing experience of a group psychodrama in which he was literally buried alive (for an hour or so) and then brought "back to life". It's an intriguing film, I'm dating myself by admitting to seeing it, but you should see it if you haven't.
That’s such a brilliant connection...thank you for bringing it up, Judith.
My Dinner with Andre captures that same threshold moment perfectly… that eerie beauty of being symbolically “buried” so you can wake up actually alive.
What Andre describes is the ritualized version of what I wrote about here...the nervous system finally surrendering its fight with mortality long enough for awareness to flood back in.
You’re not dating yourself...you’re reminding us that timeless truths keep resurfacing in every generation. I’ll rewatch it in the next month...it’s one of those films that lands deeper each decade you’re alive.
And thank you for being part of this community...the depth of references like yours keeps the conversation alive long after the scroll ends.
-Jack
While you're at it, get a copy of the Japanese film, Departures. It's quite relevant to all of this, and if you can watch it without tearing up at the end, well, that would be something.
Personally, I'm watching Audrey Hepburn tonight in My Fair Lady.
Thank you,Jack. That was worth my annual subscription. A couple of months ago, I slipped on a rocky slope, fell and hit my head. When I heard the sound of my head hitting a rocky shelf, a voice in my head said, "I'm done." No other thoughts, no emotion. Clearly, I was not quite done, but the lack of fear or attachment struck me.
Beautifully said, Charlene...and I’m grateful you’re here with us.
That “I’m done” moment is exactly what I’m pointing to: the nervous system dropping the storyline...the amygdala going quiet...and a clean...fearless clarity stepping in.
No drama. No negotiation. Just presence. That’s the Corpse Mind showing up on its own...when there’s nothing left to defend...what remains is simple awareness and, strangely, peace.
If it serves you, try this add-on: for the next few days...tag any small good thing (warm cup, a breeze, a laugh) with “bonus time.”
It reinforces the shift your body already knows: you’ve got nothing to lose...and everything to notice.
Also, with your permission...I’d love to excerpt that line (“I’m done”) anonymously in a future piece. It’s a perfect illustration.
Thank you for being a paid subscriber...and for sharing a moment most people never talk about. Stay with it. The fearlessness you felt isn’t a fluke...it’s a doorway.
-Jack
This will be something I will have to try as there are some days...
Good Job, Jack, I'm Glad I'm Old ‼️
Thank you. I like your thinking, Karen!
-Jack
This!! At 76 yo I'm thankful for whatever time I have left here, but I'm also ready to go. It's true that I forget that acceptance sometimes, especially if I'm in pain, so thank you for the reminder. I look forward to your next message.
That’s beautifully said, Georgann...and it’s the heart of this entire practice.
That quiet readiness you describe isn’t resignation...it’s mastery.
Most people spend a lifetime trying to bargain with time; you’ve already made peace with it. Pain has a way of making us forget that...but every moment you remember… even for a breath…you’re free again.
Thank you for being here and for sharing that wisdom with everyone reading. I’ll keep sending reminders like this one...because your kind of clarity is exactly what the world needs more of.
-Jack
Thank you for this. Where did you post the meditation for subscribers? I just subscribed.
Hi Karen,
Welcome, Karen LeCocq! I haven't...yet. I will send it out this weekend. Be watching:)
-Jack
Thanks!
I’ve been living in “extra time “ since a kidney and pancreas transplant 28 years ago. Some days I forget that I’m already dead. Thanks for the reminder. Look forward to the next post 👹
That’s incredible, Rachel...twenty-eight years of bonus time. What a testament to grit and grace.
That line...“Some days I forget that I’m already dead”...is perfect.
It captures the paradox exactly: when you’ve already faced the edge...every sunrise is a resurrection...and yet life’s noise can still make us forget how miraculous it is just to be here.
Thank you for that reminder right back. You’re living proof of what this issue was meant to celebrate...freedom through acceptance...courage through perspective...and humor in the face of everything.
I’m honored to have you reading...and I’ll keep sending more reminders for the warriors of “extra time.”
-Jack
I lost everything in the CA Camp fire almost six years ago. Evacuated with the clothes on my back and a few out-the-door items- a backup hard drive, my trusty iPod, a camera. No photos, no personal effects. A coat or two, one (1) favorite t-shirt. For every other evacuation warning I stacked stuff like bankers boxes full of photos I’d not yet scanned, some going back 90 years. Boxes and boxes of my journals and writings going back to 8th grade I intended to transcribe “when I had more time”. And immeasurably more, but just the transportable normal personal accumulation of seven decades.
Gone.
Far worse was my shop, I’ve been a mechanic of one sort or another about from longer ago than the journals. I can’t begin to list the stuff- even though I had to for insurance. But go look at Craftsman tools these days. Miller welding equipment. Snap-On, DeWalt, more, much more, all from the era when the brands meant something. It had been my plan after I quit my business to provide care for my mom- that I could start up, this time just for myself. to get back into. Perhaps see what came out of the stuff I’d thought to create with what I had been saving up. Explore woodworking just for fun, not for resurfacing cabinets and fixing broken things.
Gone.
I recognized my entire past, save for that HDD was over, more or less for good. That past held the key to my future. I know this is not exactly the scenario called out for here, but it really triggered me, I feel like I’ve been The Walking Dead since the ashes cooled. I related to every fucking word here. Living only in the moment because that’s all there was. Still working on it. I’ll probably edit this in a bit.. Thanks.
Tom brilliant post. The other thing that can have you except death is having almost died. I almost died 3 different surgeries one that got botched one that was on my Mehta artery and only 40% of people that have that surgery survive and I came damn close to dying And one was my carotid artery. My brain shut down and rebooted so now I have no fear at all about dying since I actually did for about a minute or two when I have the credit auto surgery the other way I think you can do. This is the way you described But I also learned a lot by reading the untethered soul by Michael Singer michael talks about letting go he talks about if you resist reality you will suffer mightily and so every time I see myself resisting any reality at all I know it’s time to let go I have I did Study that book. I read it 35 times1 chapter 9 over and over again and it made a difference because now I noticed when I’m resisting anything and I let go of it.
Sorry for all the typos I was editing and hit the post button by mistake
Love it!
Thanks, Jack. At 67 I’m at the short end and not the long. However, I still live a fully as possible. Why not? I lost my brother when he was 31, active duty death. I realized death didn’t capture his spirit and it certainly has no hold on me. I think that is why I tend to speak up and tell what it is because, why not? I appreciate your insight and how to not let something control that has no control.