This is a strange question. I read it out loud to my husband this morning over breakfast. We sent off our older baby to school (he’s in Kinder) and took our little baby (she’s not even yet in preschool!) to the local bagel place for some family time together. The first thing that struck me was that it’s asking more about concept than anything else which I still think is really weird. After some family time including a lovely morning walk I did a little visual brainstorm with just writing the question and squiggling for something pretty and a little play.
A pastel-squiggled page with the prompt of the day written. I broke up the question by prepositional phrases.
Sometimes a little visual play helps me sort out my thoughts better but I still find this question a bit puzzling. Even though the squiggles were just a bit of Procreate exploration and color palette play, I’m struck now how lines and turns and squiggles are representative of the many twists and turns of life’s path. The squiggles intersect, follow one another sometimes, or even steer clear, even as they all contribute together to the play and decoration of the whole. This isn’t some great work of art-it’s just a 10 minute visual brainstorm activity, but even in the random choices I thought I was making, there’s some meaning to be unearthed. Which is a lot like life!
If I were to write this prompt, I would have said “What are your thoughts on living a long life” and left out that whole “concept of” prepositional construction. It’s so strange. I think this particular prompt is actually asking what do you think about in thinking about a long life. To answer that: I think about my family, and mostly I think about THEM living long lives. My only request is that there be no out-of-order deaths of children before parents or spouse before grandparents.
A few weeks ago I was listening to an NPR story about programs that connect youth who are grieving. One in 12 children grow up with the loss of a parent or sibling before they hit the age of 18. I was thinking about how high a number that feels like. I suppose some of that statistic takes into consideration the families where multiple people apply: a parent of three dies, each of those three children are part of that 1 in 12, or 3 in 36. But it still seems far too high a number. I have been incredibly sheltered in not encountering much death other than those you expect: grandparents, older family, older mentor figures. My own dad lost his sister and later his mother, but this is probably the closest I am to it. I say ‘probably’ because a lot of loss goes unspoken.
I guess my concept of a long life is very much related to my thoughts on death and premature death. Nothing is guaranteed in life and that’s one of the fundamental realities to come to terms with, embrace, and truly be at peace with if we’re going to life a good life, regardless of its length. And long does not equal good. Good is made in the shortest of moments: my daughter’s laugh, early morning cuddles with my son, a walk in the woods with my husband. Good is made in when the choice is put forward to accept what may come and embrace the vulnerabilities anyway. The choice to love in the face of loss, or be open about your feelings when your person or community might not accept you for who you truly are. I’m still not sure if this is an actual answer to the writing prompt because I’m having trouble separating out the different parts of it. It’s been a long day filled with teaching, parenting, and working and maybe my brain just isn’t up to snuff. That’s fine.
If life is long or not doesn’t matter as much because love is forever. Love, energy, life force, breath, spirit, whatever it is that draws me deeper into connection, whatever this is that won’t let me go, I know its forever and the love I hold for those I love is real and true and good. And that love won’t die just because we do. And that gives me a lot of hope, regardless of the exact number of years that life of love turns out to be.
Actually an Artist 
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