The thing I do not want to know…

I do not want to know my expiration date. I would only obsess about what was coming rather than living each moment to the fullest. My Maker has already determined my last breath and because that information is being withheld from me, I have made peace with denial in this area.

I do not want to know when the rapture is coming either, and I do not want to know when the Cascadia fault is going to slip, causing an earthquake and a tidal wave.

So that begs the question -what do I want to know?

That is much simpler.

I want to know on what day the sun is going to start getting up earlier and by how much.

I want to know when the king tides are coming and how much the full moon’s pull will strengthen them.

I want to know where all the waterfalls are that are not hard to hike to, and I want to know if there are any river rafting companies that will let me take my dog.

I want to know the name of every single, smiling, gurgling, or sleeping baby that is rolled past me in a stroller, and I want to memorize the faces of the mothers who soak them in these songs of whistling trees and whispering rivers.

These things are worth knowing.

The thing I do not want to know is tied to my impending mortality. But the things I want to know are inextricably woven with threads of joy, beauty, and hope.

So, in the days that remain - however long or short - I want to befriend spontaneity and a perceived lack of purpose and a schedule that is never followed.

I want to just blithely follow the muses every day.

- the weather muse - the dog muse - the spirit of adventure muse - and a host of other muses I have not met yet.

No… I do not want a roadmap to the journey towards the end of my days.

I just want to bathe in delicious uncertainty until something or someone announces, “time’s up!” - knowing that then, and only then, will life truly begin.