Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with an acute awareness of how fragile life is and a palpable sense of what it would feel like to be taking my last breath. It is said that the only guarantee in life is death. When the time comes, everything that has culminated into my experience of the present moment, the storehouse of influences and thoughts that give shape to how I interpret the world will disintegrate completely.
The feeling accompanying this experience is a mixture of sublime openness tinged with a sadness that has no object. I feel a love for every single being — not in a sentimental way. Rather, there is a sense of camaraderie in that each of us is experiencing our own universe as a conscious being and at the same time sharing this dream called reality. I feel foolish for all the time I have spent worrying about mundane things and for any energy I have wasted indulging in negative thoughts.
I want to hold on to this understanding and vibrant sense of being alive, but I know it will pass.