I was packing up my stuff on Wednesday morning, planning to check out of my Airbnb and head back to the Island, when a little voice told me I had more to do in New Brunswick.

I’d booked a couple of nights over there to meet with a client after delivering Thing One back to college.

It was a beautiful day, and I kept thinking how nice the drive home would be with the trees showing off their fall colours.

I found myself wishing I had my family with me so we could take a detour and drive to Fundy National Park to see the Hopewell Rocks.

For anyone unfamiliar with Atlantic Canada, The Bay of Fundy is home to the world’s highest tides and the iconic rock formations that have been carved by said tides.

The trip is something Jason and I have talked about doing for years.

But somehow, our kids have gotten too old (but not old enough) to be optimistic about going on a four-hour tour to look at rocks.

We take these kinds of things for granted. Assuming that we'll get around to seeing them one day. But what if, when that day comes, they aren't there anymore? These rocks have not signed a contract promising to still be there when we make it a priority to visit them.

Erosion and winter storms have taken their toll on the Flower Pot Rocks. They've started shifting and toppling over, which happens with shorelines.

This natural wonder was never going to be the same one that we saw in our geography books in elementary school.

I started to think about the reason I was in New Brunswick. My client had just told me the day before that she's working with me to write her book because she has to stop putting it off. If she doesn't do it now, then when?

Now is literally all that we have.

The rock formations aren’t going to be here forever. And neither am I.

So, I decided to go ahead and take myself on a field trip.

I reached my destination at low tide, and me, myself, and I stood in wonder. Humbled by the beauty of it all.

I felt this sense of relief having taken the time to go there. Before the thing I want to see is swallowed by The Bay of Fundy.

I wonder if that’s how my clients feel when we finally have their stories down on paper. Grateful that they made it a priority before it's too late.

So many people say they want to work with me “one day.”

But that is quite a gamble. I am impermanent. You are impermanent. And so are our circumstances.

(I’m also a Gemini. I don't know what the hell I'll be doing in a year from now. I assume I’ll be here doing more of the same, but who knows?)

God willing I'll still be here and healthy. And hopefully, you will be, too.

But we're not getting out of here alive. Have the 2020s taught us nothing?

I've started to ponder impermanence each morning on my yoga mat. Being aware that nothing is forever is a good way to go through your life. It makes the tough things more tolerable, and the sweet things more sweet.

Because none of this is going to last. It's all temporary.

So go ahead and look at your bucket list and start crossing off the things you have the means to do, and do one of them now.

Which of those things do you not want to leave this world without doing/seeing/feeling?

Write the book.

Start the business.

Take the trip.

Buy the car.

Learn the thing.

You matter right now. And now is all we have.

Namaste 🙏🏻

JL