A Letter from the Hospital
Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson, the GOAT.
Chest pains are scary.
In an instant, you realize your insides can betray you. Your spirit and your meat parts are not always on the same page. You can be full of life, ideas, stuff-to-do, and big-big-plans… then your meat parts break down, and suddenly none of your vivaciousness matters.
You get great writing done in a hospital. Low lows, high highs. Lots of downtime in between. Mortal drama set against long hours of beige walls.
I’m fine, by the way. I’ll live, and make a full recovery. I’ll be sending you nerdy notes for years to come whether you like it or… unsubscribe.
I spent a few minutes staring into the abyss this week. Not long, but long enough. We all have our moments to re-realize life is fragile, short, and precious. Your own, especially so. I’m grateful for these glimpses at the inevitable. Sometimes the daily work of living, writing, sharing, loving, and building feels repetitive, and thus, unimportant.
There’s no better clarifier than death. In particular, this question: what do I wish I had done if today was my day?
And what are the things I’m proud of? How do I feel about my contributions?
It’s good to answer these questions for ourselves every once in a while. Ideally, NOT dependent on some chaotic life event. But, maybe better that than never.
What happens when we die?
I assume the second after I'm actually dead it won't matter to me. I think Naval is probably correct when he says "after death will feel just like before you were born."
But I am even more confident Keanu Reeves is correct when he answered "the ones who love us will miss us."
That's what I thought about when I had glimpses of fate. Not the places I haven't been or sandwiches I hadn't eaten... But what I had been able to do for people around me, during my life and in the future they would experience without me. What else I might be able to give with a few more months, a few more years?
What I don’t understand yet is how to balance “live like today is my last day” with “this is my last year?” with “live intentionally over (10 or 50) more years.”
There’s probably a good pithy assumption to make… something like the Stockdale Paradox, but for death. Let’s try it: “Unwavering faith you will die, accepting that truth while keeping the discipline to live as though you’ll live forever.”
Or maybe: “Eat, exercise, love, and live as if you will live to 110, but prioritize like you have 1 year left…”
Samurai lived in preparation for death. I think we all do... with different levels of attention. It's easy to forget. Maybe it's just more comfortable to forget. In the end we're all living to die well.
When I remember that, I find it easier to live with humility, intention, and gratitude. So this adventure turns out to be -- like everything else -- an opportunity for practicing gratitude.