Sometimes I think about the overall awareness of the mortality of humans. We speed down the freeways in bulk-sized metal machines, pumping with fuel and other fire-starters. We tail people, and swerve, neglect our blinkers and side-view mirrors, all the while going 80 plus miles per hour. Thanks to technology, we multi-task like our lives depend on it, when really they depend on NOT doing it. We reach into the back seat, yak on our cell phones, toddle with our GPS devices, eat our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, we're so unstoppable behind the wheel... so unstoppable and seemingly invincible. Oh, but we aren't.
And I wonder at what point does it dawn on a person that in the blink of an eye, their existence can cease. That everything they thought really mattered, everything they thought they had control of -- all their emails, phone calls, their electronic connections to the world outside, all that crap doesn't matter and never has. But what does matter?
Who's to say? Certainly not me. I mean... do I know what matters to me, of course. But to every other soul on this planet, most definitely not. So in reality, I suppose maybe emails and and GPS are truly the depth of all things important in your life.
Ask yourself this: when it comes your time to go, who's going to be at your funeral? Will your GPS device be a pallbearer? Will your Blue Tooth say your eulogy?
Did your life mean anything to anyone other than you?
I'm asking because I've recently been put in a situation where realizing my mortality was inevitable. And with the weight of some significant stress on my shoulders lately, it seems the mere blink of an eye flashes glimpses of my fate. A potential plane crash. A missed red light on my morning commute. A drive by. An accidental slip while taking a shower. It's all entirely possible. Maybe unlikely, but possible just the same.
And every time I blink and wonder, I tell myself that should it happen right now, I'd be okay with it.
Every once in awhile this blog topic comes up for me. I tell the people I love that I love them and I remind the people who have a hard time dealing with death that it's inevitable, and while heartbreaking, also beautiful. It's an experience that, albeit morbidly, bonds people. All tragedy is this way. It's natural.
But every time this topic comes up, I once again take the time to let everyone know how I feel. This time I decided that I'm not going to single people out and say 'I love you,' but rather, I'm going to tell everyone how I feel about dying.
Dying is inevitable. This whole living thing we're all doing -- it's fatal; the ultimate terminal disease. Each person is plagued with different symptoms and each of us can go to all costs to ease the process, but each of us already knows our fate. We die.
The best we can do is make the best of our situations. We can choose to fight and we will often times win. But while we perhaps win the battle, still ultimately, we do not win the war.
The way I see it, we can look at things one of two ways.
1. We can live life like today is our last day. We can protect ourselves beyond reason and worry about death lurking around each turn, each risk, each breath.
or 2. We can live life like today is our last day and do everything we can to accomplish all we've dreamt of experiencing.
I choose the latter. I choose to make my choices and be confident that I'm making the best choices I can and to stand by them or admit that I made a mistake. But regardless, I choose to live, not in fear, but with passion with intrigue and determination. I choose to go through this life knowing that tomorrow may not come for me, but if that should happen, I will have lived the first 24 years of life to the fullest possible.
And I wonder at what point does it dawn on a person that in the blink of an eye, their existence can cease. That everything they thought really mattered, everything they thought they had control of -- all their emails, phone calls, their electronic connections to the world outside, all that crap doesn't matter and never has. But what does matter?
Who's to say? Certainly not me. I mean... do I know what matters to me, of course. But to every other soul on this planet, most definitely not. So in reality, I suppose maybe emails and and GPS are truly the depth of all things important in your life.
Ask yourself this: when it comes your time to go, who's going to be at your funeral? Will your GPS device be a pallbearer? Will your Blue Tooth say your eulogy?
Did your life mean anything to anyone other than you?
I'm asking because I've recently been put in a situation where realizing my mortality was inevitable. And with the weight of some significant stress on my shoulders lately, it seems the mere blink of an eye flashes glimpses of my fate. A potential plane crash. A missed red light on my morning commute. A drive by. An accidental slip while taking a shower. It's all entirely possible. Maybe unlikely, but possible just the same.
And every time I blink and wonder, I tell myself that should it happen right now, I'd be okay with it.
Every once in awhile this blog topic comes up for me. I tell the people I love that I love them and I remind the people who have a hard time dealing with death that it's inevitable, and while heartbreaking, also beautiful. It's an experience that, albeit morbidly, bonds people. All tragedy is this way. It's natural.
But every time this topic comes up, I once again take the time to let everyone know how I feel. This time I decided that I'm not going to single people out and say 'I love you,' but rather, I'm going to tell everyone how I feel about dying.
Dying is inevitable. This whole living thing we're all doing -- it's fatal; the ultimate terminal disease. Each person is plagued with different symptoms and each of us can go to all costs to ease the process, but each of us already knows our fate. We die.
The best we can do is make the best of our situations. We can choose to fight and we will often times win. But while we perhaps win the battle, still ultimately, we do not win the war.
The way I see it, we can look at things one of two ways.
1. We can live life like today is our last day. We can protect ourselves beyond reason and worry about death lurking around each turn, each risk, each breath.
or 2. We can live life like today is our last day and do everything we can to accomplish all we've dreamt of experiencing.
I choose the latter. I choose to make my choices and be confident that I'm making the best choices I can and to stand by them or admit that I made a mistake. But regardless, I choose to live, not in fear, but with passion with intrigue and determination. I choose to go through this life knowing that tomorrow may not come for me, but if that should happen, I will have lived the first 24 years of life to the fullest possible.
Comments
I'm kidding. I think what you wrote was beautiful! I feel the same way. My brother's life was cut entirely too short and I learned a lot from it. Well done!
We're handling a death in the family ourselves right now. It's scary and no matter how many deaths you experience, it never gets easier.
Thanks for your support.