Moeller calls this spiritual narcolepsy - when we forget who we are, what we are capable of and what is like to deeply, intensely and joyously alive. She draws learnings from her experience of losing her house from a bush fire and how she was able to bounce back from it.
But Moeller points out that we don't have to wait for something bigger to happen in our lives, or get another wake up call or wait for perfect conditions to happen. If this really is our “one wild precious life,” what are we doing about that? she asks.
Stop waiting, as she puts it, is we go forth anyway. "We go forth into our dreams, hopes, and fears. We live that dream we have tucked away for a rainy day. We take that leap we had always hoped to take even when we don’t know how it will turn out..."
This lesson on how we should stop waiting is best encapsulated by this quote featured in the book:
“The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon,
But that we wait so long to begin it.” - W.M. Lewis
But beyond this core lesson, what actually struck me while reading the book is this story about this man the author met one day in a grocery. The man at the counter relayed his story:
Two years ago, I was in a car accident that almost killed me. I spent three months in a hospital in and out of a coma, slowly healing my broken body. I ran a six-figure business which quickly went down the tubes without me at the helm. My wife was distraught, having given up her career while we raised our children and being unable to make enough money to pay our bills.
After I left the hospital, I still couldn’t return to work, and we fell further and further behind. The bank took my house, and then the repo men showed up and then carted away all our stuff. We now live with our kids—something I would never have considered before.
I work at a hardware store where I make a third of what I used to make. I miss my life before the accident, and some nights, I toss and turn in disbelief about what we have lost, the changes that have happened and my fear about our future.
I work at a hardware store where I make a third of what I used to make. I miss my life before the accident, and some nights, I toss and turn in disbelief about what we have lost, the changes that have happened and my fear about our future.
At sixty years old, I am not sure if I will ever make it back to where I was before. Some days I wish I could, and other days, I just plain don’t want to work that hard.
Living with our kids gives us daily time with my grandkids—whom I almost never saw. Working here at this counter, at a store where I once breezed through the aisles on my way back to my busy life, I get to meet new people everyday. As I pause to say hello, or to help someone find something they need, I can see the pain in some people’s eyes and the joy in others’. Some people stop for a chat and others rush by. For me, everything has slowed down—and sometimes, I thank God for the accident and a second chance at life.
Beautiful realizations from a heart-tugging story. :)
Living with our kids gives us daily time with my grandkids—whom I almost never saw. Working here at this counter, at a store where I once breezed through the aisles on my way back to my busy life, I get to meet new people everyday. As I pause to say hello, or to help someone find something they need, I can see the pain in some people’s eyes and the joy in others’. Some people stop for a chat and others rush by. For me, everything has slowed down—and sometimes, I thank God for the accident and a second chance at life.
Beautiful realizations from a heart-tugging story. :)