I attended a memorial today for a family friend, a woman my mother was close with when we were young kids. Such wonderful stories were told about her life! She was an amazing woman who lived absolutely fully in just 64 short years.
Amid the tears and laughter it got me thinking. What would people say about me at my death? What would I want them to say? How short life can be; am I really living truthfully to myself? All those little moments when I don't have the courage of my convictions... do they add up to a life only partly lived?
What really matters to me?
I was in a bit of a woe-is-me funk earlier this evening. I thought I'd drag my butt down to the hotel lobby to see what exorbitant prices they'd charge for dinner. Thankfully I decided to take a walk instead.
Just as I'd been walking for a while with no decent, open restaurants in sight, I hassled a rather cute guy in a suit for directions. Good directions - head up to 8th and keep walking. I settled on a "Japanese Fusion" place.
If you're ever in Calgary* I recommend "Zen 8". The service and food were great and the presentation lovely. The hostess found me a book on bonsai to keep me occupied and even went out to buy a newspaper for me.
I'm not in such a woe-is-me mood any more.
Note to self: next time your wander should include your camera...
*downtown Calgary is pretty dead in the evening. Ask a cowboy for directions and you'll improve your luck.