Living Like You're Gonna Die

I have recently been busy in the best of ways. Meaningful work has been filling most all of my time. Putting something in the basket means you have to take something out... and for the last week or so, it has been this blog which has been neglected. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I've had a great time writing these posts so far, and hope to have a similarly great time as the road unravels itself. And thanks to all of you -- if you even exist -- for coming over here and checking things out.

Due to my relative lack of available blog-time, this post will be my equivalent of a quick blurb, of sorts. As happy as I am with the things that have been filling my time, I would hate to lose all momentum on this front. So here we are. A collection of quotes, excerpts and passages all related to what has been on my mind lately. The words of others will take over.

You will hear from me again.

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From Fight Club:

Listen, now, you're going to die, Raymond K. Hessel, tonight. You might die in one second or in one hour, you decide. So lie to me... Fill in the blank. What does Raymond Hessel want to be when he grows up? A vet, you said, you want to be a vet, a veterinarian. That means school. You have to go to school for that. It means too much school, you said. You could be in school working your ass off, or you could be dead. You choose... So, I said, go back to school. If you wake up tomorrow morning, you find a way to get back to school. Raymond K. Hessel, your dinner is going to taste better than any meal you've eaten, and tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of your entire life.

From an article about The Doors:

Pamela Morrison used to tell a story from the very earliest day of The Doors. They were playing their first club, The London Fog. It was their last set of the night and there were only three people in the club, two drunks and Pamela. The band was incandescent. Jim raged and exploded with super-human passion, a transcendent performance. Pam was stunned. In the car she could say nothing...long after arriving home she was still speechless. Jim asked, "What's wrong baby?" Pam said, "There were three people in the club during the last set. But you burned like you were performing for thousands of people. Why did you go so far, risk so much for a tiny audience that was barely aware of your presence?" Jim looked at her and said slowly, "You never know when you're doing your last set."

From Tuesday's with Morrie:

"'Everybody knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently,' Morrie said. 'So we kid ourselves about death,' I (Mitch) said. 'Yes, but there's a better approach. To know you're going to die and be prepared for it at any time. That's better. That way you can be actually be more involved in your life while you're living. . . Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?... The truth is, Mitch, once you learn how to die, you learn how to live... Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn how to live.'"

From Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet

No one can advise or help you - no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.

From Black Elk's The Sacred Pipe

"It should be for you a sacred day when one of your people dies. You must keep his soul as I shall teach you, and through this you will gain much power; for if this soul is kept, it will increase in you your concern and love for your neighbor. So long as the person, in his soul, is kept with your people, through him you will be able to send your voice to Wakan-Tanka."

"It is good," Black Elk has said, "to have a reminder of death before us, for it helps us to understand the impermanence of life on this earth, and this understanding may aid us in preparing for our own death. He who is well-prepared is he who knows that he is nothing compared with Wakan-Tanka, who is everything; then he knows the world which is real."

From the Johnny Cash biopic Walk the Line. The following takes place when Cash gets his foot in the door and regails producer Sam Phillips with some staple Gospel songs:

"I can't market gospel no more." "Is it gospel or the way I sing it?" "Both. Do you have anything else? We've all heard that song, sang just that way, a million times. I don't believe you when you sing it." "Are you saying I don't believe in God?" "No. You know what I'm telling you. Let's bring it home. If you were hit by a truck and lying in a gutter dying, before you turned to dust, if you had one song to let God know about your time on Earth - well, that's the kind of song that truly saves people. Nothing to do with believing in God. Everything to do with believing in yourself."

These will have to make the point for now. Our time is short. Get up, get out there and get done what you must get done. The world is waiting for you.