Afraid to Live

The sun has yet to peer over the expanse of L.A.’s skyline. Night noises still abound, snores of exhausted sleep through the walls, the air conditioning fan turning off and then on, the faint hum of the small light in the hotel’s bathroom. Yes, night is still upon us.

Soon the birds will sing on the big tree outside our window, the cleaning staff will make too much noise trying to be quiet and sun will rise to greet us all. Yes, soon the night will change places with the day and day-life with its sounds, tastes and touches will once again fill me.

So I wait. I lay in bed anticipating dawn and I wonder about life. It occurs to me that it is not that death scares me so much as never having really lived.

Last night I watched “I Love New York,” partly because I will be there in a few days and partly because it appeared to be about love. I want to throw the remaining stretch of yesterday’s hurt off by filling myself with the soft aromas of love.

The movie was instead about sad people, aimless people, people devoid of living dreams. A movie that I was glad was over. So this morning I wonder about life. Am I living every second? Perhaps not as elegantly as I would like, but am I experiencing every feeling, touch, mistake, and success?

My musing makes me think of Grace Hansen who declared, “Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.”

An amazing and truth filled statement. Yes, my fears and concerns are not about death, but rather about experience life—all of it. Yes, be afraid that it never begins; be very afraid. For in my mind that is indeed the worst of choices; a life where you breathe the air in and out, but never really live.