I have been thinking of the idiom “living on borrowed time” a lot lately and had recently written it on my Blog Topics list.  So I looked it up, and the most common use of this phrase was when one was expected to die soon.  But a broader definition of “living on borrowed time” in Merriam-Webster is: an uncertain and usually uncontrolled postponement of something inevitable.  So, in that context, doesn’t it stand to reason that as people, we are living on borrowed time?

To me, it does.  If we accept that our time of death can never really be known for sure, then we indeed are all living on borrowed time.  And if a person thinks about one’s life in this way, doesn’t a sense of urgency come to mind?  Because of that, shouldn’t we take the time to consider and do all the things we want to do or accomplish while we are still here, as a living, breathing person?

As I get older, I often think of all that I still want to accomplish and enjoy.  Isn’t that why people make “bucket lists?”  I don’t particularly like that term, but it pretty much says it all.  That’s a good reason to consider the things we want people to know about us as well. By telling the important stories of our lives to our progeny, they can in turn, hand them down to the next generation.  A verbal legacy of a life, passed down to future generations, is an incredible gift to share.

My mother passed away recently and I am finding that many of the things she told me about her life are going to disappear from my memory if I don’t write them down.  I always meant to do this, but am saddened by the fact that I lost the chance to do it properly.  I should have made recordings of her telling me those stories.  I wanted to, but never followed through with it.  What a missed opportunity!  

So now I have to start to write her stories down, and my own, to pass on to the next generations.  And I had better do it now, because I am indeed, living on borrowed time.

In the Merriam Webster dictionary a blank slate is referred to as tabula rasa.  In Sanskrit, Tabula means a blank slate.  Rasa is the essence of something.  So, I guess it sort of follows that Merriam-Webster would use this term as the definition of the phrase, “blank slate.”   But I found it a bit odd, since Sanskrit isn’t exactly a language that most Americans would speak or even identify with.  I know, I know, that’s a dictionary for you, always using other languages to explain our own.

And then I found the English Learner’s definition just a bit further down the page as an explanation of the term.  So if you are considered an English Learner, you find the definition to be:  

: someone or something that is still in an original state and that has not yet been changed by people, experiences, etc.

: something that does not show or express anything

How strange for a dictionary to provide an inferior, (in my opinion) definition to a native speaker.  Oh well.  On to the topic at hand.

My favorite example of a blank slate is  the condition of newborn babies.  They are truly little blank slates, completely free of any outside motivation or prejudice.  These little human beings are perfect, untouched by any negativity.  They embody an intelligence that has yet to be exploited by any human interaction.  They are tabula rasa in essence.  They are not yet influenced or sullied by those biases of the adults around them.  Their minds are totally unblemished.  

So what other examples of a blank state are there?  An empty page to be written on is one.   But another way of thinking about this term is to consider it an opportunity for learning something new.  Find a topic of interest you have always wanted to learn about, but haven’t ever pursued.  Each time we endeavor to learn something new, we start with a blank slate in that subject.  It’s like a fresh sheet of paper waiting to be written upon.  An exciting way of increasing knowledge is to have blank slates with the things you’ve yet to discover or accomplish. And as each one becomes filled with new facts and ideas, blank slates can become incentives to make life more interesting and enjoyable.  And isn’t that a wonderful way to fill our time, by writing our own book of knowledge acquired through filling blank slates with wisdom?

Do you ever find yourself wallowing in your own mind?  The only ways I have ever thought about wallowing is a way of floundering in the mud or of animals refreshing themselves in water.  But there is another definition that I didn’t think about much.  Wallowing can also be to indulge oneself, luxuriate, or revel in something.  That definition is not what I am referring to.  I tend to wallow in my own thoughts, ruminating about different things.

Now, while I would not say this is necessarily a very constructive thing to do, I would not say the opposite either.  It just seems to be the definition of what I tend to do when confronting an issue or thinking deep thoughts.  And wallowing seems like just the right word.  Maybe you disagree, but it suits me.

If you have never wallowed in your mind before, don’t knock it.  Sometimes it can be a successful path to finding an answer to something you want  or need to know.  Try it first, then if you don’t like it, you can “dis” it all you like.  Words like “dis” are words to wallow about.  The first time I heard this word was when I worked with students in middle school.  I floundered around with that one.  I found out that this word originated in the 80’s as an abbreviation of disrespect.  I never heard of it until a kid asked me, “Are you dissing me?”  I most certainly was not dissing him.  I digress, a lot.  I’m sorry.

But back to wallowing, have you ever wallowed?  If you have, please comment.  I would love to know someone else who does this too.  I feel the need to wallow in the mud of my mind and it sure would be great to know that I am not the only one.

There’s something very special about the friendships forged in elementary school.  This is uniquely true for the friendships my classmates and I had in a Catholic grade school.  That’s what we called it then.  “Grade school” was the 8 years we spent in grammar school, first through eighth grade.  It was definitely a memorable, shared experience.  Actually that is a huge understatement.  In many ways it was a trial of sorts.

Let me explain.  The first thing was that we were taught in extremely large classes.  However, the classrooms themselves were quite small for the number of students they housed.  There were 52 kids, yes, 52, in my class.  There were only 16 girls and the rest were boys.  That made the girls a definite minority.

Because we were in a minority, we shared some of the same issues.  We all had less privileges, but more expectations.  Girls were supposed to be “good” all the time.  Fear kept us in line pretty easily.  The nuns were fierce.  But in retrospect, they had to be in order to control that many students.  And our parents were totally on board with that.

The boys were more of a challenge and bore the brunt of the wrath of our teachers.  But we learned.  Even in such large classes, we got a pretty darn good education.  I was a very good girl and was never in trouble.  But I was so happy to be home at the end of the school day.  I was a good little mouse.

That is not to say that all the teachers were scary.  In fact, I have some really fond memories of the special ones we had.  It was not a horrible situation.  And we all turned out pretty good.

Now, 56 years later, my girlfriends and I have begun to get together again.  And we have so much fun it must be sinful.  Just kidding.  But it is truly amazing how much we like and love each other, even if we hadn’t seen some of our classmates in years.  We now have lunch or dinner once a month, sometimes more often when the ones who live out of town come in.  Most of us live in the same area where we went to school together.  But one thing is certain.  My childhood friends will always hold a particularly special place in my heart.  They are treasures to be cherished forever.

Sometimes I am feeling so good just to wake up in the morning that I have to say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, God!”  Other times, I forget to be thankful for all that is good in my life, and I can feel disgruntled for no particular reason.  But, if I remember that I can call to mind any of the many good things I do have, everything can be transformed in an instant.

I guess it is part of being human, to fail to see the good at times, when the daily news is usually filled with more negative stories than positive ones.  But we need not succumb to this attitude of hopelessness and despair.  We can always change our minds and hearts, if we want to do so badly enough.  Sometimes, we can see this clearly, and sometimes we can’t.

There are times when each one of us must face grief and sadness.  That is also just a part of being human.  Sometimes, we are able to see the path to peace and follow it, while other times it is nearly impossible.

And sometimes, when everything seems to be going our way,  we do not see the pitfalls that lie ahead.  And that is when we must allow others to help us, and be there for us.  No one is strong all the time.

At all times, we are each responsible for our actions.  But sometimes, when we fail to see that and take responsibility, we have consequences to pay.  Sometimes that needs to happen before an important lesson can be learned.

Whether we are happy or sad, angry or forgiving, kind or mean, silly or serious, there are times for each of us to feel all these things.  And some days, like today, I just like to ponder all the “sometimes” of my life.  Do you feel this way sometimes too?