A few days ago, I had a significant health scare. I’m okay, but it shook me more than I expected. Ever since, I’ve found myself thinking about consciousness. Not in an abstract philosophical way, but in a very personal one. What is this thing that experiences being me? What is the awareness behind my thoughts, memories, emotions, and sense of self? And what happens to it when the body can no longer sustain it? Does consciousness continue in some form? Or does it simply end? I don’t know. The older I get, the less interested I am in certainty and the more interested I am in honest questions. And if consciousness doesn’t continue, then another question arises: What do we leave behind? Not just our possessions or accomplishments, but the small ways we touched other lives. The conversations. The kindnesses. The moments we were fully present with another human being. The ways we changed people and were changed by them. I’ve been feeling a little strange since the experience. A little quieter. A little more aware of how mysterious it is that any of us are here at all. I don’t have answers. Just gratitude for another day, and a deeper appreciation for the people I get to share it with.