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Thursday 23 March 2017

On becoming aware of my own mortality

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, 'When I read a good book I wish that my life were three thousand years long'. As many of you know, I'm an avid reader (I'm on Goodreads here) so one of my random thoughts over the last couple of weeks has been: 'Gosh, I need to become more selective about what I choose to read, as time may be short, and there are so many books still unread'. I think that was my slightly circuitous way of expressing a new awareness of my own mortality.

Until now, my mortality has been a fairly abstract thought. Of course, it's not a new idea: we all know that we will die someday, but it's not until this moment that I believe I've truly understood the concept. Perhaps this sounds a little cliched, but once you stare death in the face, the world appears completely different. Even if I had ever tried to intellectualise it before, I could not grasp its true meaning.

And it manifests itself in different ways. This weekend, we are heading to Heidelberg for a short break, to visit some of my family who live there. Over breakfast I was explaining to Tanai that my uncle Paul retired last year, and I'm looking forward to finding out more about how he is enjoying his retirement. Last time I visited Heidelberg he was just about to finish his job and was planning to pursue all sorts of interests with his new-found free time. Tanai ruminated on the subject of retirement, and concluded that he, too, is looking forward to retiring, and the freedom it will bring. Suddenly I paused, and thought: 'I hope I'm still around when you retire so that we can enjoy it together'. This feels quite shocking for me: I've never been maudlin, or thought extensively about my own death, and to experience these reactions is new to me. When I shared my thoughts with Tanai he confessed he'd also felt similar things recently. Often, we will talk over breakfast or dinner about our plans or dreams for the future. And yet, recently, we have both (consciously or subconsciously) avoided discussing too many dreams far into the future. We cannot say for certainty what our dreams or plans are for when we are old, as we no longer know we will be old together. 

This is not to say I've suddenly become morose or convinced I will die soon. I remain pragmatic and optimistic and keen to overcome this new setback, but it's still an interesting revelation. I suppose I'm now aware of a potentially changed timetable; a sense of urgency where before I felt I had plenty of time left to do the things I want to do, and for Tanai and I to have all the adventures we wish to have together. I suspect it will lead to a reassessment of my priorities. I understand now why many people who have beaten cancer have a renewed sense of vigour, and often completely change their direction in life. Therefore, it has brought about a time of contemplation in me. I have been reflecting on where I am in my life, and how I feel about my life choices.

Happily, I think there is very little I would change. I'm feeling fulfilled in my job, my studies, my relationship and (for the little time left over for it) my social life. I have a huge capacity for friendship and cherish my friendships with people all over the world. Of course I'd love to have more time and money to see more of my friends more often, but I do as well as I can. I'm glad I took a gap year a couple of years ago and fed my soul with some solo travel. And I'm finding my masters degree incredibly rewarding. I don't have regrets and can't point to something significant that I wish to change. I suspect the impact of this growing awareness will be more subtle, and perhaps more fundamental.

Essentially, life feels to me more precious, more fragile than it did before. Moments are imbued with more value, and I do not wish to waste any of them. Therefore, I don’t want to spend my waking moments scrolling through a litany of Trump’s latest imbecilic actions, or frittering away evenings on things I’m only half-hearted about: instead I wish to use the days of my life wisely. Yes, I wish to read good books; to be absorbed in great art and culture; to travel to new places; to spend time researching things that interest me, seeking new knowledge, wrapping my brain around concepts and discovering great writers and thinkers. I wish to spend delightful weekends experimenting in the kitchen with my favourite sous-chef. To enjoy long, languorous evenings drinking wine and talking shit with my wonderful friends. 

Life is a series of choices, and suddenly I’ve become a lot more selective about what I shall choose.

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