The Perfect Lens

Seeing Life Through Grace

The rivers and oceans have always known me best. Not the hallowed halls of churches or the whispered prayers in temples, but the steady flow of water over mossy rocks and jagged shorelines. Here, in the pulse of streams and the rhythm of waves, I've found my deepest connection to whatever divine force moves through our world. I've been blessed with a life rich in waters - from distant seas that kissed foreign shores to quiet lakes that held my reflection in their depths.

My body is changing now, transformed by a degenerative illness that claims more of me each day. Like a tiger moving through tall reeds, its presence is felt rather than seen - a constant companion in this journey. Yet this is not a story of loss, but one of profound appreciation for all that remains and all that has been.

This morning brought a moment of grace through unexpected honesty. A doctor sat at my bedside, my friend Julie present as witness. When asked what I needed, I spoke of wanting my former self returned. The doctor took my hand and offered what I treasure most: truth. The disease will progress, she said, and eventually claim my life. In that moment of stark honesty, I found not despair but clarity - a gift that allows me to fully inhabit each remaining day.

I've lived a life of privilege - not just in material comforts, but in the wealth of experiences that have shaped my days. Books that opened worlds beyond my own. Music that moved through me like those beloved rivers. Friends whose laughter and love have been the constellations by which I've navigated my journey. Lovers who taught me the infinite varieties of tenderness and passion.

While my physical capabilities diminish, my anger sometimes flares - not from depression or fear, but from the fierce desire to continue embracing life in all its fullness. This anger, too, is a kind of gift - evidence of how deeply I've loved this life I've been given.

I don't seek the formalities of funerals or the neat summaries of obituaries. My life speaks for itself through the lives I've touched, the words I've written, the love I've given and received. I continue to write, to create, to connect - not in defiance of what's coming, but in celebration of what is.

This is not a sad story. It's a love letter to life itself, written in gratitude for every moment - the brilliant and the dark, the graceful and the awkward, the gains and the losses. All of it has been a gift beyond measure.

So I'll keep writing, keep loving, keep finding the divine in flowing waters and human hearts. There's such beauty in seeing life through the perfect lens of mortality - how it brings everything into sharp, precious focus. Every sunrise becomes a psalm, every shared laugh a hallelujah, every moment of connection a small miracle.

This is what grace looks like: accepting what is, while loving what has been, and remaining open to what each new day might bring.