It’s hard to get a good Beatles song out of your head. They come in unexpectedly, moving through the brain, building momentum, until you find yourself humming along, ever so quietly. Unlike a good classic rock song, your head doesn’t bob, but your body sways.
Life is often like that. It creeps up on you, moving along the continuum, sometimes reactive, sometimes proactive, until you find yourself on a trajectory that is the collection of all that came beforehand.
I like to think of life as a series of labyrinths, paths chosen and reconsidered, openings to new opportunities, not always sure of the journey but believing that it’s worth discovering where it leads.
Moving into January, I reflect on my three nonagenarian relatives — their journeys chosen, their life’s work, and the wisdom they hold. Walt Whitman’s poem “I Sing the Body Electric” resonates with me in this reflection. I think he meant that we should be completely alive in every moment, belting life’s lyrics at the top of our lungs, so that when the inevitable comes, we gave life a good run.
