Weddings, Funerals & Baby Ducks

If I had to describe this year in one sentence, it would be weddings, funerals and baby ducks. We may not have had enough sleep, or patience or clean socks—but we had weddings, funerals and baby ducks in excess. Needless to say it's been a year with a lot of tears: both happy and sad! I mean, have you ever held a downy soft, black duckling in your hand—one can't help but get a little choked up! I had just penned up my latest momma duck and her two black babies for the night, and I was walking back under the velvet night sky. We had attended our last wedding of this year (and I pray our last funeral of the year), and I was thinking about the power of three: birth, life, death—the past, the present, the future. What could be more different than and wed ding a funeral (or a baby duck)? Yet, if you really stop to think about them, they aren't so different after all—and I don't mean all the jokes about marriage being the end of one's life! There's a poem I love by Linda Ellis that goes like this: I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end. He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time that they spent alive on earth. And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash. A wedding celebrates an exciting beginning (as do baby ducks), while a funeral marks a conclusive end, but it's the dash that makes those two similar. At each wedding or funeral this year, there have been little nuggets of wisdom, that I took away with me—and they all had to do with that dash. •168. That's how many hours are in a week. It doesn't matter if you're young or old, sick and healthy, rich or a farmer—we all have the same 168 hours to spend or invest however we choose. How will we spend the time of our dash? •Don't just live the length of your life—life the width of it. This one made me really stop and think for a bit. How does one go about living not just to the end of your life, but making it as full as possible. How each of us put that into practice will surely be different, but for me, that means no social media and more game nights; more hand-written letters and less emails; saying yes to another chapter in the kids' book, even though I'm nearly to the end of mine—because someday the kids will grow up and move out; my 168 hours will reset and my dash will end—and I want to make it as wide as it is long. I used to think this was achieved by having a lengthy list of things I needed to do or see before I kicked the bucket— i.e. A bucket list. And while I love traveling and seeing new places and meeting new people. I don't need those things to make me feel satisfied. As I hit the half-way mark in life this month, I have come to value the present moment more than the memories of the past or the excitement of the future. When I'm fully present, it seems the width of life opens slightly more than it had before. I don't need to have my ducks all in a row. I'm perfectly content just having them swim in their pond. I don't need a bucket list—my bucket is over flowing already—oh wait, that's my boys attempting to mop the kitchen floor because the dog opened the door and let those cute little muddy baby ducks waddle all over the house. That's one hour out of the 168. So as we each go about our 168 hours this week, think about your dash. What do you want it to include? How will you go about living the width of it? Pablo Picasso once said “only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.”