One of my all-time favorite quotes is: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive.” What makes you come alive? Who are you? What change do you see yourself walking toward right now? Are you heading somewhere you actually want to go?

Erica’s old anger patterns as directed at my children and husband, or, per Stephen King, “Some werewolves are hairy on the inside.”

How do you imagine what happens to your remains: a burial on land? Burial at sea? Donation to science? Orbiting in a Tesla convertible? 

This gadolinium glimpse inside my brain shows me that my cerebral edema swirl (brain swelling) looks like a graceful design on my latte. That’s never come up in my reports before!

T is for Time. I don’t have a lot of it. My prognosis is short-term. But what a gift.

I lay out some twigs, a clump of dryer lint and a drugstore receipt for eyedrops that’s inexplicably as long as my arm. The firepit fills with flames, rapidly consuming my offerings while fading away as quickly as they began. I reload with more sticks, torn paper bags, newspaper shreds and fallen wood. I am patient with my fire-tending.

As I navigate innumerable decisions along this terminal cancer journey, having the strength and desire to return to beloved interests like viola feels like a precious gift.

How about some real reflection during this new spin around the sun? Here are three prompts that I find helpful.