Are you doing your thing? Listening to your heart strings and making it happen or wandering aimlessly while beating to the sound of other people's drums? Nicole Kenney and KS Rives have the most amazing project. They're asking people to answer to the question of what they would do before they die and then taking a snapshot with a Polaroid camera. What a good idea. It made me panic at first because I could hear the clock ticking but then I wrote my dream on paper. The rush was overwhelming and now it feels like a promise to myself that must be met.
Their website mentions that when people are suicidal, if someone tells them not to do anything until help arrives and they have agreed, they always wait. There is much to be said about our spoken word of honor and how it gets stronger when we write it down. The contract becomes legit. Jack Canfield, author of "The Power of Focus" suggests writing down 101 things you would love to accomplish. (www.canfieldcoaching.com) Before you know it, things on the list get crossed off because they are happening. It's the Law of Attraction working.
Before any of this was known to me, I would cut pictures out of my favorite magazines and then recycle the rest of the magazine. One winter night, as I was flipping through the pages for reference, it shocked me to notice how many things I now owned from those pictures! The soup bowls came from Pier One and they had a design I really liked. I remember imagining what kind of soup I'd make and almost smelling it in the air as I clippped and glued. My heart was comforted. On a summer day, I stopped at a garage sale and there were the bowls on a table. Eight, perfect and never been used. I liked the $4 price tag considering they had originally been $8 per bowl.
So, what do you want to do before YOU die? Dance, be happy and sing and don't forget to shake it like a Polaroid picture!
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time:
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusted death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.