Death and Taxes
Reflecting on my Bambi year
A couple of years ago I went through what I called the Year of Ten Deaths, which was as you can probably imagine from the title, the most feel-good twelve months of my life.
Sarcasm.
Within that year, which also saw the dissolution of two different companies I had started, I attended ten funerals for friends, grandparents, a stranger and even a baby — that year was a stark reminder that all things end.
As tough as that reality can be to rectify, it’s something we all live with every day. I often wonder if the anger, violence, divisiveness and ego which seems to permeate our societies and lives would simply cease to be if we could just accept the fact that our clocks are running out. But I digress.
Two-thousand-thirteen was also a major year of upheaval for me, a year of change and fluidity, where it was nearly impossible for me to flit my fingers and exclaim, “the more things change…”
In 2013…
I lost a job, I lost a friend, I lost some weight and I almost lost my mind. Another friend almost died. Some other people did. When time didnt feel like it was standing still, it was blazing by so quickly that I lost entire months in the blink of an eye. I also discovered how much better healthy food tastes, how much I enjoy photography when it’s allowed to exist within my social circles instead of others, what it feels like to turn down a job I wanted at a time when I needed it simply because it was the wrong fit, and what it felt like to turn 30. Though I’ve always been fiercely independent, I think perhaps 2013 was the year I finally understood what it was like to have shaky legs under my body while I stood up for the first time. This was my Bambi year.
This was also the year I discovered Buddhism, or at least incorporated it into my life, and I’m confident that Buddhism has saved me every day since we met. Learning that I was not at the center of the universe when mine seemed to come crashing down around me was the best lesson I’ve ever learned and something that I think saved my life. Discovering that the best way to process the bad was to combat it with good instead of fixating on the whole thing has made me a better person, a better child, a better friend. And it’s incredible how much better just feels better.
So the more distance I get between my Year of Ten Deaths and whatever day it actually is feels pretty good. Any day above ground is better. Here’s another bit of life-coaching I learned this year that’s really blown my hair back: consider the improbablity and near-impossibility in your very existence — you’re that one sperm that got through and became you. You’re one in a million, kid.
A few years ago I learned how disruptive, disturbing and inspirational death can be. This year I learned what it was like to let go of money and possessions and ego and self. I learned what it was like to be around folks who have less than nothing, and how wonderfully enriching it is to see a smile on their faces and know you were a small part of that. Mostly, I think I learned how to tell the difference between studying and real learning. Today, I am born anew. Tomorrow, I will be too.
I guess that’s the way the whole darned human comedy keeps perpetuatin’ itself, down through the generations, westward the wagons, across the sands a time until we— aw, look at me, I’m ramblin’ again. Wal, uh hope you folks enjoyed yourselves.
