I don’t know how much time I have left.

I don’t know how many days, weeks, months, years. There is no way of knowing.

I can guess. I can hope. I can pray that time will hand out days for a long, long time.

But certainty is not available.

This life is fragile. And rich with mystery. Impermanence touches everything.

Not just me. All of us. It has always been this way. It will always be this way.

To the mind, this is terrifying. Depressing, even. The awesome depths of the unknown rattle us to the core. But this shock of terror can wake us up. It can shake us into gratitude. It can bring us to our knees, kissing the ground, weeping with thanks for another day. Another morning. Another afternoon. Another evening. Another sleep.

Another breakfast.

These days are not guaranteed. None of us knows how much longer we have.

Not absolutely.

Praise the giving and the relieving of days, then! Praise time itself. Praise the ability to be here. To walk. To sit. To lie down. To connect with friends, with strangers, with the mystery itself. To look at a tree. To watch a cloud pass. To feel a tear. To feel anger rise. To feel grief soften and heal. To hope. To despair. To forget. To remember. To let life surge through us once again.

To open, to close.

Not knowing how long we have here makes today extraordinary.

Here. Now. A shocking gift. A humbling gift.

Inhabit your days, friend. Step into them. Let them step back into you. Reach towards life and let life reach back into your soul.

If you are reading this, you have today! Let today matter, deeply. Let today steady you. Let it bring you back to the ground. Let it breathe you awake. Again and again.

Let today be the day
you finally stop waiting
to live.

- Jeff Foster