Tomorrow is promised to no one.

      “Remember, tomorrow is promised to no one.”

                             -Walter Payton

My life, of course, creates the fodder for what I write. I have begun to realize that experience, be it good or bad, holds within it the opportunity to seek grace and uncover wisdom.

Such was the source of the Timeless Waters blog for March of this year, and alerted by the message that my post contained, an old friend contacted me. Speaking to me in a language I could understand, he referenced an experience I wrote about in my book, Timeless Waters, and opened a dialog about where I was in my life. Of all that conversation contained, there was one thing he said that has stuck with me the most; “What do you want the next half of your life to be about?” He is indeed a wise man.

I took a few weeks and let that simmer. My young to middle adulthood had been about working hard; building my career, a family, a home and a life. Wrapped up in those things are my values of service to humanity, productivity, success, accomplishment, stability, and so forth. All those endeavors were worthwhile and are the foundation of where I am today. I have no regrets, but a new season of life is upon me, and with that comes the question: what do I want that to look like?

Joy was the word that came to mind; and a life fully lived. Living life fully would mean living a little differently; creating new patterns in my existence to balance out the paths of experience so well traveled the first forty five years. Joy, spontaneity, time for recreation, and tending to my list of dreams—this was what I wanted and was where I would start.

After a solo-trip to Utah to explore Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park-- an experience that fit my newly established criteria-- I told my sons I wanted them to hike the Narrows with me for my 50^th birthday.  What could be more exhilarating than a ten mile hike through the Virgin River in the heart of Zion, with 1500 feet canyon walls towering on both sides? My youngest, now 12, asked “why are we going to wait until your 50?”  He had a very good point. Two months after that conversation, I found myself hiking the Narrows with my boys, as well as Bryce and the Grand Canyon. It was a literally a dream come true. I am still not sure how I made that a reality. Come to think of it, I’m not sure exactly how this entire summer has become a reality. It is as if I am living my life from a different paradigm, and I hope it is where I have taken residence rather than a short visit.

Perhaps the quote at the top of the page should be Walt Disney’s “if you can dream it you can do it,” rather than “tomorrow is promised to no one.” Or maybe, just maybe, the two together are the formula for a joyful life indeed.

Blessings,

Sheryl

Transcendence

     “a state of being or existence above and beyond the limits of material experience”

Just as we are all dichotomies, so we all have characteristics that can be viewed as both our blessing and our curse. One of those characteristics for me is my ability to feel deeply. My ex-husband would watch on with both frustration and awe as I covered the spectrum of human emotion in a matter of minutes, and then with ease, could carry on with the rest of my day. He once said the sky I saw was much bluer than the one he saw, but that the pain I felt was deeper too.

            Living life that way is a rich experience, and one that can enable a person to not fear what lay within him or herself. But sometimes when a person is handed too much over a span of time, he or she shuts down emotionally; a coping mechanism.

At the time I didn’t realize it, but it happened to me. I handled the experiences being handed to me with an “evenness” previously unknown to me. And so it was for several years, and it occurred to me that maybe I had learned transcendence; the ability to rise above and beyond the limits of material experience.

Then one night as I sat gazing at the stars, I realized my sense of awe was diminished. As I thought about many of the events I had faced over the previous few years, I also recalled that I had never shed any tears. The words to the Eagle’s Desperado played in my head-- “You’re losing all your highs and lows, aint’ it funny how the feeling goes away--” and I got it; I was numb. While the absence of the lows was nice, life without the highs is a flat life indeed. With that recognition, the tough exterior that shielded me for several years began to soften, and I got hurt. I sat on a friend’s couch sobbing, recalling how awful it was to feel something so deeply. Later that night, a favorite phrase from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet, came into my mind:

        “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

            Gibran’s poetic wisdom both gave me pause to reconsider the concept of transcendence and reminded me of the richness that exists in this physical experience we have chosen. Human emotion is a critical part of that experience. With that awareness, maybe healthy transcendence is not so much about responding to what life throws our way by immediately rising above it. Perhaps it is ultimately about how we respond when we find ourselves in that deep well of human emotion.

Blessings,

Sheryl

A Little About My Book

In a nutshell, I visited a location in New Mexico, and it was no universal coincidence. I had some small, but interesting experiences during my brief stay there, but upon returning started having dreams. In these dreams I had vivid experiences from someone else’s perspective. I got names and relationships that I was able to validate with US census data from the 1800’s. In actuality here were three, what I have come to understand as reincarnational existences.

The reason I wrote this story is because I believe that knowing and understanding our multidimensional selves is our birthright. Think about this—we may not be psychics who can set up a table and give readings to other people, but access to ourselves? Yes, that is our birthright.