Tags
Beauty, Death, Emily Dickinson, Lauren DiMarco, Memoir, Moja Maat, Self-help, Writing
© Moja Ma’at
Because I would not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
Emily Dickinson
I remember sitting at my bedroom desk trying to analyze a poem for a ninth grade English class. As I gazed outside the window for inspiration, I saw that dusk had painted the sky a brilliant conch shell pink and a pale lavender blanket of snow cloaked the ground, save for a grove of birch trees whose silhouette looked like tall paper dolls pressed together in conversation.
At that moment I had the terrifying realization that death would come calling one day. I tried to grapple with the notion that I would not continue in my mind and body for eternity. My view of the world changed on that mid-November afternoon at the tender age of thirteen. Even though I was doomed to see things through the glass darkly as it were, from that day forth, what I did behold was with passion, amazement, and wonder.
At middle age, almost against my will, I have revisited that landscape of my youth. I am grateful for another opportunity to consider my mortality and make choices that will enhance my life as I begin a new chapter.
Time is the most valuable, but diminishing, asset I have. I am now very careful about with whom I give and receive the gift of time. I do not engage in personal relationships that are not joyful, loving, or satisfying and I aspire to have at least one positive experience each and every day.
You, too, can give yourself the gift of time – it is never too late to make a change!
© Moja Ma’at
Model – Lauren DiMarco
