Now that I’m 64, I only have two basic priorities in life. One, to do my best to get that Beatles song out of my head whenever possible. It’s uncanny how the song pops into my brain at the most inopportune of times…
The other more pressing priority is to live life as most authentically as I can. That is, to live life honestly without pre-judging people and experiences. To refuse to live a life gripped by fear, and to accept my limitations. To release everyone around me (and myself too) from my preposterous demands and absurd expectations.
There is a fellow I know who, when asked how his life is going, trots out the standard reply, “I’m living the dream.” Obviously there is abundant sarcasm in his tone, but I’m going to suggest that my goal is to do the exact opposite.
My goal in life is to “leave the dream.”
By dream I mean all of the experiences, beliefs and events in my life that keep me asleep or in a perpetually-passive state —bumbling along perhaps as an obedient consumer, a blind conformist, a creature of comfort and convenience, regardless of how I might hurt others or compound problems in the process. The dream is largely someone else’s idea for what my life should be. This dream is designed to help me avoid my personal reality.
More specifically, the dream is everything in life that keeps me from understanding the predicament I am in.
And what is, exactly, my predicament? To be blunt, it’s that I am going to die.
In contrast, I want to be clear-eyed and awake. I want to live life out meaningfully. I want my life to count but not in the sense that I shall be remembered for a lasting legacy or for my mark on history. Both of these seem hollow and empty objectives for one’s life.
I just want to reach my life’s conclusion with the knowledge that I made “enough waves” so as to taste what it really means to live. I am tired of telling others that life is a gift that should not be wasted. I want to know it fully for myself. I want to experience the awe and magic of being alive —right down to my bone marrow. And I’m prepared to feel the fear of losing it, if it will help me live more vividly.
I used to pity anyone who understood that their lives were about to end. Such psychological torment! Prisoners on death row, 9/11 victims inside the towers about to collapse, passengers on a crashing plane, etc. —anyone aware that their death was imminent had my absolute sympathy.
But how idiotic! How could I pity them when I am exactly in the same circumstance? Regardless of what I care to believe about my life, the truth is that I could die at any moment. Every experience, every day, could be my last.
At least 3/4 of my life has already come and gone.
What will I do with the remainder?
Armed with the clear knowledge that one day I will be no more, I will set out to live life to the fullest.
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* Here is a fantastic book I recommend to everyone:
Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman