Limits of all kinds

It’s rarely spoken of: limits.

Potential or ‘JFDI’: now you’re talking.

But, in case you needed reminding, we’re all going to die.

Do we live our death wisely?

I realise that’s slightly tautological but you get my drift; namely, not the live each day as if it’s your last shtick — would you even know what that looked like? — but understand that death is as much a part of our humanness as is life.

For the record, and for those of you who’ve read “Die Wise” by Stephen Jenkinson, this is a very hamfisted and inarticulate way of trying to portray the deep and abiding message that he’s sat astride these past (I guess) 25 years.

And it’s sure gripped me.

Limits that is.

Does this mean I’m on a mission to persuade you to embrace death et al. as if that’s going to fix your life? No, not all. In one sense, I couldn’t really care less whether you dialled into the necessity to embrace life-limiting obligations, not potential-grabbing, must havery. Then again, why shouldn’t I be energised to (at least) write a few things, speak if given the chance and if the muse allows, write a bit of poetry?

We’ll see; but all I say is that there’s more than a little hushed tone running through my body that suffuses the need to understand that waking up each day mustn’t/shouldn’t be taken for granted and the fact that I’m here, coffee poured, sitting quietly writing this blog is something that I’ll cherish to my dying days.

Have a good one dear readers.

Much love,


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