When I was 23 years old, in the short gap of time between graduating from college and entering the Peace Corps, I spent the summer in Alaska. One fateful day, I nearly drowned in a glacial river after the raft I was in capsized. In finding myself underwater, I knew that the potential for dying was very high. One split second later, I also knew that I was not ready to go without a fight ~ and fight I did.

In the days after the rafting accident, I noticed that I felt different. My mind was more quiet than I remembered it being. My heart was more open to love than it had been. The many distractions available to me were no longer attractive. 

I wasn’t sad. I was grateful. And I had a new sense of purpose: creating a meaningful and joyful life. A real life. A life with no regret.

There’s nothing like coming face to face with your mortality to focus your attention on what’s important. 

Most of us never think about the day when we will exit the world of embodiment. Our attachments to this life and our innate, biological drive to survive keep us rooted in physical life. In this age of doom scrolling and distractions, it can be unthinkable to consider that day when for us, it’s over. 

But when we get really present to this fact, it changes us. We embrace life as it is, and ourselves as we are. We develop an inner sense of freedom from obligation, and clarity about what makes us happy. We savor every day we have – and want to use each one for something that matters. 

Sometimes this awakening happens because of an actual crisis: a diagnosis. A loss. A tragedy.

It also can occur through contemplation, realization, and choice. 

I invite you to give that gift to yourself today, without crisis. 

What would have to change to live your life with no regret?

What would it be like if your life supported not just what is expected, but your authentic joy?

Who would you become if you felt that every day was the best day of your life?

Are you ready?

Don’t die before you die. Take a stand for your life. 

Live, on purpose.

To your success, 

Kimberly