28/04/2026
Everything happens on it’s own time, and everything is right on time. 🧡 I’ve been holding this phrase for some months now, an invitation to stay patient and present, as I work to birth the Dying in Mexico project (and especially the book). Now, as I accompany my faithful companion of 15+ years on hospice - my dog, Sport - it has taken on a new layer of meaning.
Two weeks ago, I was certain that Sport’s time in his body had come to an end. And yet, here we are. My relationship to waiting, to time, has been blown open. I’ve uncovered a level of presence more intimate than I ever could have imagined. The degree to which I am finely tuned to his body, his breath, his voice, and the expression in his eyes which - for me - communicates so clearly, is astounding.
Every moment could be the moment. But there’s no telling which one. And so I’m left with only this moment. There’s nothing to do but completely surrender. To trust that this is all unfolding just as it needs to. Perfectly paced. Right on time.
And it’s not lost on me that this closeness, this invitation to practice patience, to surrender my attempts to push time forward, has always been available. Is always available.
We’re all dying. And there’s no telling when. As practiced as I thought I was in death awareness, this is new. This trust in the pace of things, this longing to be even closer to life, more deeply connected to now.
When Sport has been buried, when the rawness of the grief has faded some, and when life picks up the pace, may I remember this. 🙏🏻May I remember this sensation, the slow magic that has come alive in this deepest state of gratitude and wonder, the presence that is love.