I once apologized to a college friend: "I'm sorry; I'm only temporary." It was a jest, but truth be told we each come with an expiration date, even if we don't know when and how we will expire. Still, it is a dead certainty (pun intended) we will. I don't know when I will expired, but I do know have I reached the point in my life when I have more days behind me than ahead. So my college witticism is now a more pressing reality. I can no longer deny my mortality, as teenagers naturally do. I am not, by any means, a practitioner of "mindfulness" but as I age I aspire to be more mindful in my daily life, more aware of each moment. And being truly aware of life - both my own life and life around me also means being aware of my mortality. So I would like to come to peace with my own death.
I have read that in Bhutan there is a belief that thinking about death - specifically your own - five times a day can lead to greater happiness. It certainly puts the rest of the day into perspective: no mistake I make, and nothing I achieve, is going to change the fact that I will die. All my joys and all my sorrows, all my cares and all my desires - they will end along with me. Take that, anxiety! If truly applied, it can free me to live each moment to the fullest, knowing it may be my last; to value every interaction I have, knowing it truly could be the last. It can lead me to let go of grudges and slights - why hold on to things that a) won't matter, because both I and those I might be offended by will die; and b) will keep me from living each moment to the fullest. Now to put that into practice.
I will close by admitting I really wanted to write a poem for this last prompt, but found myself stymied, my monkey-mind spinning, my verse falling flat. That's OK. There are many who have written eloquently about death and mortality. Perhaps some day I will too. Perhaps not. I'm just glad to have shared this moment with all of you. I'm grateful that you have read my writing, and allowed me to read yours. Thank you. And especially thanks to you, Robin, for creating this platform and drawing something both meaningful and ephemeral - and thus very human - out of all of us.
— Zachary
I have read that in Bhutan there is a belief that thinking about death - specifically your own - five times a day can lead to greater happiness. It certainly puts the rest of the day into perspective: no mistake I make, and nothing I achieve, is going to change the fact that I will die. All my joys and all my sorrows, all my cares and all my desires - they will end along with me. Take that, anxiety! If truly applied, it can free me to live each moment to the fullest, knowing it may be my last; to value every interaction I have, knowing it truly could be the last. It can lead me to let go of grudges and slights - why hold on to things that a) won't matter, because both I and those I might be offended by will die; and b) will keep me from living each moment to the fullest. Now to put that into practice.
I will close by admitting I really wanted to write a poem for this last prompt, but found myself stymied, my monkey-mind spinning, my verse falling flat. That's OK. There are many who have written eloquently about death and mortality. Perhaps some day I will too. Perhaps not. I'm just glad to have shared this moment with all of you. I'm grateful that you have read my writing, and allowed me to read yours. Thank you. And especially thanks to you, Robin, for creating this platform and drawing something both meaningful and ephemeral - and thus very human - out of all of us.
— Zachary
Yes, thank you, Robin, for creating this! And Zachary, you are just something special! I wish I could meet you! But I suppose I have... I would love to discuss this "wanting to write a poem" thing. How does that happen in the mind? Why? I ask as someone who wrote ONLY poetry in her youth, "found" poems later one, and now writes ONLY prose (sort of). Why are our creative urges so dang weird? What a 40Days it's been. THANK YOU, Zachary! (Macoff-- foucof@gmail.com)
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