I used to have a bright red double-breasted wool suit with gold blazer-type buttons. I wore it year after year because it looked great on me (or so people said). One spring when I was putting it away for the following winter, I had a frightening thought. What if I would not be alive to wear it in the winter? That is the first time I remember acknowledging that I wasn't so young any more. It did not feel good.
That was eight or ten years ago. The suit is long gone to Goodwill, and I'm still here. But reminders of mortality come more often now. I call them bad think, and I try not to dwell on them.
Here's another example. We have a lot of possessions. I hope our children will want some of them. But I've been thinking lately that the kids shouldn't have to go through all of our useless (to them) belongings after we die. So occasionally, I look in a closet or a file drawer to see what I can get rid of to make our stuff less a burden for them. Is that bad think or real-life think?
In our back yard, we have two huge Japanese lilac trees that bloom in alternate years. Right now one of them is blanketed with cream-colored blossoms. It is a breathtaking sight. Today I became concerned about how many more times I would see that tree bloom so gloriously. That's bad think.
Instead, I should think about how fortunate I am to see it blooming right now.