Everything is just borrowed

Everything is borrowed.

I came to this world with nothing
And I leave with nothing but love
Everything else is just borrowed.

The Streets

 

Some days, maybe when I’m feeling a little low and tired and vulnerable I weigh up my life, the success and the failures of it and try to use some kind of moral weighing scale to ask if there’s evidence of my having done good, of having been good. I can rustle up a list of the shitty things I’ve done over the years, times I’ve said and done things which I cringe about now. At times I was stupid, selfish, cold and lost. And yet there are other times I can think about my trying to be a good person, to be the “best” version of me, of my being kind and thoughtful and generous and open. Which me is real? Which me is the one I should focus on and advocate for, which me should I promote?

In truth I’m a complex mix of dualities, I’m good and bad, kind and cruel and I’m making choices all the time, some days I should make better choices.

I believe I arrived here in this world with core aspects of me already in tact, aspects shaped by past lives, by journeys I’ve had and by my star sign and by the cosmos. I arrived here at the appointed day and hour to undergo a journey and there were lessons I needed to learn from being around the people who I spent my formative years with, family, friends, teachers. I didn’t arrive as a blank slate, I’m on a mission of learning and I’m being shaped by everything that happens to me, much of it is unconscious and affects me in ways I cannot comprehend.

As I grow older I’ve less and less desire or interest in the consumerist culture we are encouraged to participate in. What matters is connection, relationship with people, experiencing emotion as part of feeling alive but also knowing this is finite, I will die. Life was underway before I arrived and it will continue after I have gone and I try to remember this everyday, not because I’m morbid but because I hope it supports me to make better choices, it opens up my ability to see beyond the immediate and to question whether in the sum total of my life, will this thing that I’m doing, saying, wanting, denying, ranting about, will it really matter.

Ordinary Day

Joyce Grenfell

It felt like an ordinary morning
It began an ordinary way
And then, without warning
Ordinary morning became an extraordinary day.

Hadn’t the slightest sort of inklin
No-one said love was on its way
And then within a twinkling
Without the smallest inkling
It became an extraordinary day.

For there you were
And the whole world stood still.
There you were,
I loved you then and I always will

At first, an ordinary morning,
Began in an ordinary way,
And then my heart was beating
At this ordinary meeting
And we both knew

This was not an ordinary day.