Every Moment Could Be the Last
Cada momento podría ser el último
A reflection on how contemplating death, rather than producing fear, can awaken a profound celebration of the life we share with those we love.
Every Moment Could Be the Last
A reflection on how contemplating death, rather than producing fear, can awaken a profound celebration of the life we share with those we love.
It is every moment.
I was with some friends the other day, describing how my father is in town and turning eighty. He is throwing a party in a month. I made a comment which, to me, was full of celebration of him. They were saying something about the party, and I said, "Yes, if he makes it to the party." It was not dark humor. What I meant was that I am trying to meet him as much as I can today, tomorrow, and every day, because he might not be here in a month.
Celebration, not worry
Experientially, for me, that notion is not heavy or morbid. It actually excites me. It fills me with a sense of just wanting to see him. And when I do, I enjoy that moment fully, because it could be the last. If I were contemplating that constantly and struggling with worry, then something else would be going on. But that is not my experience. For me, it comes from a place of celebrating not only his life but the fact that we are alive together, still.
The contraction in others
When I brought that up, there was a reaction in the people around me, and I realized I need to be more careful. In others, a comment like that might bring up worry rather than celebration. For people who are not doing this kind of inner work, there can be a contraction around such a statement. I realized it may not have landed the way I intended. In that context, I was not necessarily right to say it so casually.
The practice of contemplating death
But for us here, I highly recommend contemplating death and facing the contractions that might arise around it, both around one's own death and the death of those we love. It is a great practice. What would you be doing differently if you knew you would die in a year? Bring it down to six months. One month. A week. One day. One hour.
Ultimately, one can realize that one does not die. The body does, most likely. But to enjoy this life as it is, while we have it in this form: celebrate. That is what all of humanity is about. It is all of the stories, all of the poetry. It is this whole movement of learning to be human, of loving more, of opening up and facing fears.
I saw a film recently that I loved, a very beautiful example of exactly this. It is about a man who is obese and disconnected from his daughter, and the entire film is simply the process of him opening up. It is so beautiful.