Death and Laundry

I love mornings like this: I get up, I go; I do, I make; I cook, I clean; I love on and be loved by; I work fast and hard and see good results before 9AM even hits the clock. And thus, I give myself a few minutes downtime before I repeat the above process.

I was just folding laundry (don't all my posts relate to the fact that I'm constantly doing laundry?) and thinking about (drum roll, please): death. The end of the line. The last cigar. The finito. And why do I think about death and the day that I will die? To help me live.

I call it "forward thinking" (do I need to slap a label on this and become rich in the process?). You have to think backwards from the end (which is technically looking forward from the point you're at now) to get the clearest vision. But before you can start all this gazing, you have to know what type of ending you want to have. Choices. We all have choices.

Think of how many choices we make everyday: be all good, be all bad; be half good then half bad; be half bad then half good; be 3/4's bad and 1/4 good; be 5/8 good and 3/8 bad. And that's even before we get out of bed. I know some of you ("drifters" as I call your class of personality) don't think that you consciously think, and therefore, you just kinda drift through life, thinking that you're not thinking. (And people like me drive you nuts!!) But even drifters have to think and make choices constantly. With all this on the table, I like to have a focus to my thoughts.

Thus, I think about death while doing laundry.

What really matters at the end of life? Money? Toys? Faith? People? Fame? Hope? Inheritances? Love? Family?

Overall, I am a business woman. I've got a sniffer for a good investment like a bloodhound for the trail. I've known deeply too much death to live so nonchalantly to believe that tomorrow will always come, so I'm looking to invest today. Money isn't that important to me (I honestly think if you threw me into a 3rd World Country, I'd be happy to be free from the hefty ties that money can bring), and toys are fun, but not a crucial part of life (though I do enjoy my wheat grinder). Fame is something I'd rather other people have, and being in the spotlight is something I can endure when I have to, but I prefer my snug little non-crowded quiet hole.

So on the terms of business and investing, I choose to invest in people, mostly. For to change a life is to change the world. To touch a life, to make an impact, to relate to and exchange the things that can't be bought with currency--these are the type of investments I look into. And I like to do business well. And this is why I think about death while folding laundry.

We are given so much everyday, even on the bad days. If time were money, would we all be investing differently? Do we give our time (and money) to things that last, that make a difference, or do we have short-term vision and kiss it away to what satisfies us today? I do both. But on the good days, I'm an investor.

And today is an investing day. This is not so much a pre-planned, tight agenda as it is a focus that is alert to looking out for the opportunities that will come my way today; opportunities to invest. I've been sitting on the sidelines too long during this tough season, turning a blind eye to these some times quiet chances to splatter a few people with kindness, to enjoy my brief moment of investment, to let the warmth of a little love fill a small portion of their soul.

But I am not so naive to know that some people prefer not to be loved, as it is either uncomfortable, foreign, or threatening to them. And it is these people that need the patience of a pure love. They may push you away, spit in your face, growl and grimace, but you know that they weren't always this way; this is a learned behavior brought to the forefront by some form of trauma. These people are still worth the effort of loving, even investing in. They may be a hard investment with little return, but that's okay, because you know that you have an endless supply of what they need. And giving is so much better than receiving.

Death and laundry.

Who would have thought the two went together? Yes, I hear the washer's chime, calling me to come and pay homage to it's sleek gray physique. So my little break is over (how did my fingers learn to type so stinkin' fast?), and I must go back to the grind of being the person I am:

A business woman that mentally stands at the end of her life, looking back and says, "What a great investment!"