I live near a large hospital. A few times each week, I hear the wakka wakka of a helicopter as it arrives from Melbourne, ready to evacuate someone, obviously, in pretty big trouble.

This morning I was outside in the dark, doing my barefoot oil pulling dance on the lawn, and the helicopter passed over me en route to collect someone in need of extra help.

Usually this happens during the day, I acknowledge it, then carry on, easily distracted by life. But today, I stopped. I stood there doing my morning rituals and waited.

I imagined what was happening a few blocks away. Devoted doctors and nurses getting everything set to send off their patient for further care. A worried relative standing by. Someone on a stretcher whose life hung in the balance.

Eventually I heard the noise again and as I saw the flying ambulance bank away I wondered, ‘who is in there?”  I started imagining scenarios: a dreadful accident; a new baby… I started praying, in my way, that they had a safe and happy life from this day on.

You often hear when someone has had a near death experience or a health ‘wake up’ call, that they start appreciating the little things, that they gain a new perspective on life and perhaps realise that it wasn’t so bad after all- or perhaps it was, and they now have the opportunity to change that.

Observing the helicopter for me is like a mini wake up call, for a fleeting moment I get a reminder of how fortunate I am, how one day it could be me  or someone I love in that helicopter, how very very grateful I am for my health, for my LIFE!

It also highlights that the things (oh the hundreds and hundreds of THINGS!) we get hung up on are ultimately meaningless.

 What would I really care about if I was on that stretcher? 

I have a Buddhist saying on my office wall:

In the end, what matters most is, how well did you love? How well did you live? How well did you learn to let go?

 Today, in gratitude, I think I can do all of those things just a little bit more.