In the last few days, I have been thinking a lot about the fact that I will die. And how my mind doesn’t acknowledge or recognize this inevitability.

I am not the sort to indulge myself, and my body often lacks indulgement. As explained previously, I live by a gospel of a lot of “shoulds.” These shoulds promote morality, guide decision making, and for the most part, make me a fuller human being. More Compassionate, More Empathetic, More Capable, More, More, More…

But often less as well…

Less Spontaneous. Less Flexible. Less Creative, Less…., well, Alive.

Believe me, I disdain the frivolous luxuries espoused by the Carrie Bradshaw’s and other caricatures of the media. Most of the single women I know do not spend their money on expensive shoes or eat decadent brunches complete with Champagne with each other every Sunday. Heck, most of us prefer Charles Shaw to $10 martinis and a cute Target bag over Prada.

While there is as much diversity in single women as unsingles, for me, my life is a tribute to functionality, purpose. I “should not indulge” because there are so many other things THAT NEED MY ATTENTION…and besides, indulgement leads to wastefulness, excess, and for me, ultimately guile that siphons the pleasure of the experience in the first place.

This pattern of behavior is supported by rationalization that I don’t really need to be indulgent. I look down on it.

But, Oh, how bland is life with out it?

So today, I am off for task #12…see my post about it here:

Suffice it to say, that I do need to indulge. I need nourishment, pure reminders of aliveness, where I freely love what I love and the experience does not LAST. It is transient, there is no testament, no trophy, it just is.

Can it be that in pursuit of conservation, in movement towards stewardship, that wastefulness is produced?
In denying myself indulgement, I am less alive. And I will die alone. So today, I am thankful to be single, because perhaps without the distraction of other, I would not be so close to being alive.

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