We are sand castles. Let’s celebrate that together – so said Sophie Strand on Facebook today.

I’m getting old. My stories are dissolving – so said a friend who was visiting me last evening.

I had dreams of sailing the world, but I knew I had to wait for your Mother to die before I could leave home. Now, I am dying before she is – so said my Father as he wrestled with his fatal surprise.

Waking from a comatose state, she blurted, I just had a dream. Ants were crawling all over my underwear drawer. She paused, then said with wonder, Oh my! They are all the fears that kept me from living when I could have – so said my Mother two days before she died, two years AFTER my Father.

My paddle crew mutinied. The raft jack-knifed in between walls of water. Thrown into the rapid’s maelstrom, I plunged beneath and was held under long enough to know I was about to die. My experience, though, was of being fully immersed in living, right there, right then, aware, awake, alive, embedded, included, conscious of being. Glorious.

May we all come to our senses. We are sand castles, ephemeral bits cohering only while the tide is out, only before a dog blunders through, or the sun dries the sand and breezes create structures of slip-sliding powder.

Gaia, the Great Mother, birthed us. Gestation has been a billion-year process and we have only a short time to experience our unique embodiment.

May we re-imagine how we want to be.

May we celebrate life – rather than miss the experience completely.