The Fire Of Life

This morning my computer caught fire.

Well, not exactly fire, but it did start to smoke ferociously. My brother was kind enough to let me use his right now, but I may be out of commission blog-wise for the next couple of days. I'll do my best to find a computer to use when I can. I hadn't realized just how dependent I have become on it until I didn't have it today. Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you got till it's gone?

On the other hand, it may have been a blessing in disguise. With no internet distractions, I spent the afternoon reading Tuesdays With Morrie cover to cover. I love that book. I feel as though I can read it over and over again, each time discovering some new piece of wise advice that I had previously overlooked. It always feels as though it's the book I would have written had Mitch Albom not beaten me to it. Someday I hope to write something so poignantly real and moving. I believe that I could if I put my mind to it. Not because I'm like Mitch, but because I'm like Morrie, because I see and embrace the world as he did. I have accepted death, whether it comes tomorrow or in 80 years, and so I am able to live, to appreciate every moment of every day.

Yes, sometimes it seemingly diminishes my ambition for those things our culture has come to see as the markings of success. I'm seeking a kind of fulfillment that can't be found in cars or houses or the plethora of material possessions designed to make us feel complete. It only leads to disappointment. They will always leave us feeling incomplete, always wanting more. Our society instills in us a desire for this endless consumerism while the essence of happiness passes us by.

We are in a constantly increasing hurry to get through life. College has become a fighting race for the highest paying career and interest in the humanities has become second rate. Interest in humanity itself has become second rate. Our priorities are skewed in the light of promises of bigger and better things, of convenience and accessibility.

It's not as though I'm not guilty of falling victim to all of this. It is easier to live with cell phones. It is easier to send emails. It is easier to have cars to get around. Still, I miss the simple joys of writing a real letter and walking to a destination. I miss the acceptance of living life slowly, soaking up the moments of contemplation and reflection as they come. I like to make my way through life slowly. I enjoy sitting in the park for hours writing about the universe. I revel in studying subjects that seem impractical to any future career. I love to explore the many splendors of each day as they come without having to worry about the days that came before or the days to follow. I appreciate the now.

I went up on the deck to finish reading my book. It was one of those dark but warm days that smell of the beach right before it's about to rain. The dismal clouds moved rapidly across the sky as though they were trying to outrun the apocalypse. The wind moved gracefully, blowing my hair back from my face. It seemed the perfect way to read about Morrie's final days, the final lessons he had to offer the world. I cried, as I always do, as he says his final goodbye. It all comes down to love in the end. Life always comes down to love.

I sat on the deck with these words resounding in my head, watching the vastness of the sky. I promised myself right then and there to live by my heart. No more of this nonsense trying to fulfill expectations. I need to live my life for me. I need to live with such fullness and appreciation for the time that I have, however long that may be, so that my final breaths will be those of peace and contentment. I have accepted that my time on this earth is fleeting. I have accepted death. Now is the time that I need to live.