There are lots of things that can be divided into quarters.
A dollar. A loaf of bread. A basketball game. College. A tank of gas. And, of course, a year.
We are now in the last quarter of the year.
You are welcome to silently comment on how quickly the year has gone by. 274 days ago it was New Year’s Day.
Where did the time go?
It didn’t go anywhere.
It’s right here.
If we’re lucky, we’ll live until the end of the year. It’s not really luck . . . more like grace. By the grace of ______ perhaps I’ll live another 91 days. Perhaps more. 91 days is the length of the fourth quarter.
There’s a certain amount of stress that comes from knowing you’re playing in the fourth quarter. A bit of pressure. Some agitation.
When the fourth quarter starts in a game, there’s often a signal. A buzzer. A flag. It wakes you up. It reminds you the end of the game is in sight.
That’s what I have to offer to you. Here we go:
BUZZER (loud)
You pause to reflect. For a moment or two, you step back from life. I encourage you to take more time than that. Take 20 minutes. Take an hour. Ponder the year. Ponder your life. Your priceless, miraculous life that you were taking for granted just as the buzzer went off. Just as the fourth quarter was about to start.
Ponder how your life, and mine, and everyone else’s, is hanging by a thread. That thread may not last the rest of the year. You may not get to the end of the quarter. Some of us won’t.
“Why so morbid?” says the little red squirrel sitting on the deck with me. “
“That’s not morbid,” says the chickadee. “It’s designed to inspire, to arouse.”
I’m always amazed by the wisdom of animals.
Eugene O’Kelly was diagnosed with brain cancer at the age of 53 and given 100 days to live (Chasing Daylight, McGraw-Hill, 2006). He vowed to make them the best 100 days of his life.
You’re facing 91 days starting now:
91 mornings. 91 sunsets.
What can you do with those days that will give your life meaning? Whose lives will you touch and how? What earthly manifestations will your creativity give birth to?
But wait. I have a confession to make. I’m in another fourth quarter. A much bigger one. The fourth quarter of my life!
So it’s the fourth quarter of the year, and this year is in the fourth quarter of my life. I’m in the last quarter of autumns, the last quarter of Christmas music, the last quarter of Father’s Days, and playing music on the piano.
This revelation has two messages. First, if there are things I ant to do, experience or give, I’d better get moving. I don’t have a lot of time to waste.
In his poem, “My Soul Has a Hat”, Mario de Andrade says it so eloquently.
I’m in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.”
(Most people who know me wouldn’t characterize me as “mature”, but the description fits anyway based on my chronological age.)
Second, if I am going to live another quarter, I want to meet and experience life as it is.
I want to spend les time distracted by smartphones, thoughts about the future and multitasking. To really taste your dessert, you need to direct all of your attentional electricity to that dessert. The same is true for coffee. And playing with your toddler or dog. If you are present to what you are doing, you are alive to your real life. If you are lost in your head, you are living your “substitute life”, as Charlotte Joko Beck would say. Personally, I don’t think the substitute life is much of a substitute for the real thing.
The fourth quarter stuff is real. Whether you are healthy or sick, this is a matter of urgency. There are no time-outs. Don’t fall back to sleep.
The Great Eastern Sun beckons you to rise to the occasion.
