Took a look at my calendar the other day and an intense epiphany hit.
Well, at least that’s what some followers of Julie Rowe’s books, “A Greater Tomorrow: My Journey Beyond the Veil” and “The Time Is Now,” are telling us. The End is nigh and the signs are everywhere: The stock market is down and interest rates are up. The wrong people are getting married, and the right people aren’t. And, it seems, my internet connection has slowed.
Crap! I thought. I’m not finished living, I’ve got so much more I want to do before I check out.
My blood pressure went up. My breath shortened: This isn’t fair!
Then it got worse: Somebody else is telling me that we’re ALL going to be checked out. Like it or not.
Checked out? Actually, I don’t like it. And I don’t want to live it. Or, rather, die it. Besides, where would we all go once we’re ‘checked out?’ I comfort myself thinking that we will all go, hopefully, to that heavenly, happy place where my Higher Power sprinkles me with pixie dust, removing my dour perspective, changing me into a beautiful celestial being. And those one guys get their much anticipated 72 virgins.
Okay, not really on that last one.
As I began to read more about it, my anxiety deepened. One online article pointed out the preparations that the ‘Preppers’ are making. I began to feel so unprepared. I have no ‘Every Day Carry’ container. I have no ‘Bug Out Bag’. Much less a series of six-50 gallon drums full of water, interconnected and buried in my yard.
I do have several close relatives with safes full of guns and ammunition. These are the guys who are truly prepared for an apocalyptic Armageddon. I’m pretty sure those with firearms and ammunition will control the most food supplies and have the greatest influence when the time comes.
These End of Days days could be bad. I mean, really, what if a meteor knocks Earth off of her orbit? What if the terrorists scorch every town in America, but mine?
Or what if the (Left/Right)-Wing media controls all of my gadgets? Do I really want to be left to fend for myself?
Let see, what do I need to survive?
Water: Last month the city billed me for 1500 gallons of water. That’s about 50 gallon per day. So if I cut my use in half, then my six barrels of water in the back yard, if I had them, would last about 12 days.
Food: Dehydrated potatoes and jerky. Hmmm, this is spooky. I’ll have to drink a lot of water to keep things, uh, moving, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, based on the underground Prepper baricades/dwellings I’ve seen, their food and water supplies will far outlast their latrine capacity. Yuck.
Still, I have great respect for self-reliant, preparedness folks. I appreciate personal accountability, regardless of the manner of personal preference in which it is expressed. Those who scoff may find themselves very hungry one day. And, they might wish they had guns and ammo to acquire some food. Note to self: Double check the combination and practice opening your gun safe.
By now I’ve reached the point where I don’t know whether to worry more about living or about dying.
Then, boom. Another epiphany. For some reason we choose to spend a lot more time worrying about dying than we spend simply living while we’re alive.
“Death is not the greatest loss in life.
The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”
~ Norman Cousins
So, if I wake up on September 29th, I’m going to kiss my sweetheart, call my kids, grandkids and parents, telling them that I love them. I’ll probably even make room for that guy who cuts me off in traffic. I’m going to open the door for whomever is going into the same building as me. I’m going to go to work with a contagious enthusiasm for creating and adding value to my little corner of the world. And I’m going to smile.
I’m going to give myself Permission to Live.