I was philosophizing about death in the car today. My mum's friend, Jeannie, has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She's a precocious woman of 60, and now she's not working and just going to have the time of her life.
What depresses me about it more than anything - for she'll certianly not let herself get depressed over it, so I have no reason to do it for her - is that our society is one in which you cannot focus on what is really important in your life until you are dying (or are independantly wealthy). Until then, we are constantly planning for the future, saving money and going to work and making ambitious plans that we'll never get to. This is normal. That we, as a society, are too busy to want.
I love this life.
If I had one year to live, what would I do? I'd never go back to school. I'd get more piercings and a tattoo or two, I'd travel around the world, and I'd meet every one of the good friends I've made on the internet. I'd see broadway shows, perform as much as possible, and see all of Europe. I'd email Ellen and see if my story were interesting enough for her to use on her show. I'd ask her if it were possible for Jacqueline and I to sing together on the air. I'd find my way to broadway and see every single show playing. I'd skydive, I'd scubadive, and I'd find wonderful homes for as many SPCA cats as possible. I'd spend ages in DisneyWorld. Every day would be completely full. No second would be a waste of my time. Now, I'd not just do it because I've never done it... I'd savour it all. It would be such a beautiful thing.
And why can't this happen regardless of my health or social status? Because I'm spending all my life planning for a future I do not get to have. Unless I achieve greatness (something that gets increasingly difficult to do as popular culture develops the way it does) or have greatness thrust upon me, I will always be planning for my future up until the second someone decides to pull my plug in the hospital.
Dying of cancer isn't the worst way to die, at least not in the Jeannie sense of the term. Not at all. You can come to terms with it. You can go out with a bang. You can get all your ducks in a row in terms of family and friends, you can do all the things you've always wanted to be able to do, and no one is waking up next to a cold body because you've died in your sleep.
That's Jeannie's feeling, anyway.
What depresses me about it more than anything - for she'll certianly not let herself get depressed over it, so I have no reason to do it for her - is that our society is one in which you cannot focus on what is really important in your life until you are dying (or are independantly wealthy). Until then, we are constantly planning for the future, saving money and going to work and making ambitious plans that we'll never get to. This is normal. That we, as a society, are too busy to want.
I love this life.
If I had one year to live, what would I do? I'd never go back to school. I'd get more piercings and a tattoo or two, I'd travel around the world, and I'd meet every one of the good friends I've made on the internet. I'd see broadway shows, perform as much as possible, and see all of Europe. I'd email Ellen and see if my story were interesting enough for her to use on her show. I'd ask her if it were possible for Jacqueline and I to sing together on the air. I'd find my way to broadway and see every single show playing. I'd skydive, I'd scubadive, and I'd find wonderful homes for as many SPCA cats as possible. I'd spend ages in DisneyWorld. Every day would be completely full. No second would be a waste of my time. Now, I'd not just do it because I've never done it... I'd savour it all. It would be such a beautiful thing.
And why can't this happen regardless of my health or social status? Because I'm spending all my life planning for a future I do not get to have. Unless I achieve greatness (something that gets increasingly difficult to do as popular culture develops the way it does) or have greatness thrust upon me, I will always be planning for my future up until the second someone decides to pull my plug in the hospital.
Dying of cancer isn't the worst way to die, at least not in the Jeannie sense of the term. Not at all. You can come to terms with it. You can go out with a bang. You can get all your ducks in a row in terms of family and friends, you can do all the things you've always wanted to be able to do, and no one is waking up next to a cold body because you've died in your sleep.
That's Jeannie's feeling, anyway.
This is not the world of our fathers' where we get to go to work at nine and leave at five and everything is forgotten until the next day. This is the world of always working, always striving and I hate it. It's why I chose to get into massage therapy. I get to help people, achieve something with every moment I am working and I can still have all the time to do those things I want to do. It isn't like my old life with deadlines and project due dates. It's a life of work because I like to work when I want to work. I get to play all the other times.
Now, I just need the person who "gets" me to appear. Know what I mean?