I have an experiment I'd like you to try that you might find interesting.
I was in a play this summer, John Mighton's "Half-Life." There was a passage in the play that has really stuck with me, these lines said by the Reverend in Scene 9:
"There was a time, a hundred years ago, when people has to wait a long time to hear their favorite song. Sometimes they would wait several years between one performance and another. And sometimes they might only hear a song once.
"Imagine how well you would listen if you thought you were hearing a song for the last time. All the cares and resentments of your daily life would seem so unimportant. You'd let go of any thoughts that might distract you from the song. You would almost forget who you were."
At lunch yesterday I had a bacon quiche. I was hungry and began to eat it quickly. I caught myself. I wondered, what if this were the last time I were eating. I slowed down. I chewed it, savoring the experience, the flavor, the texture, the feeling of my teeth sinking through the food. I took another forkful, a small amount this time as I wanted it to last. The conversation at the table faded away and it was just me and this wonderful meal. I became vaguely aware that I had goosebumps.
Again and again through the meal this happened. My eyes teared up and I willed the tears away as that would be difficult to explain to my colleagues. This meal was an entirely extraordinary experience.
Before I had cancer, I never thought that the things I'm doing I might be doing for the last time. Now I think about that sometimes, and it's truly amazing how intense and beautiful everyday events can be when experienced in this frame of mind.
I invite you to give it a try, next time something nice is happening, a nice meal or a good song or watching your daughter fishing. Imagine it is the last time that you will experience this. Does it change the experience for you? I'd love it if you'd share your thoughts!
My close friends are scattered around the world and when we see each other, I can't help but wonder if it's the last time I'll see them. I don't mean this in a morbid way-- I don't think automatically that it means, "one of us may die before we meet again" but sometimes you just end up never seeing a person again, no matter how close you were. One thing that I don't think people talk about much when talking about friendships is the role of proximity. Even the way it's expressed, denotes proximity of place, "my closest friends," "near and dear," "those that stand by you," etc. Anyway, when we do meet, I do my best to stay in the moment and to resist the urge to relive the things we did together in the past. Sometimes it feels like the present is something we're escaping by enjoying each other's company, as if somehow we can suspend time and be the people we were. This thing you're talking about is one of a few reasons why I don't take many pictures anymore. I like to remember things according to my impressions, as imperfect and vulnerable to time as it may be. Without that personal context, the pictures don't mean much, if anything. Because I choose to do things in this way, I also try to move on from things fairly quickly and to resolve not to go back to try to recreate things for myself.
With some friends you can actually count the number of hours remaining that you will spend with them. Someone you see two days a year for a total of 10 hours, 20 years left, that's 200 hours. What are you gonna do with those hours? Proximity is important... the internet changes that experience of course. We are closer to those that were far away, but of course it's not the same. I take a lot of pictures. I find that I remember the things I've taken pictures of and forget things I didn't. Maybe if you're always in the moment, the past doesn't mean as much, but I like a record of where I've been. It's why I keep a lot of journals - a family blog for example where I've recorded details and pictures over the past 5 years. I thought it would be good for my family, for my kids one day, but it's also good for me to go back and take a look. I remember a lot more.
We should always remind ourselves of this. One of the things people realize when they are diagnosed as terminal, is that they didn't appreciate the little things in life quite as much as they should have. They treated everything as more mundane than it really was -- which is precious. No matter how long we live - the universe is for all intents and purposes infinite - so each moment you have needs to be treasured. I'm going to have a coffee -- and I'll treat it like it's my last coffee. Coffee is beautiful.
I was actually going to respond and say I try to do this constantly with every moment. I meditate and practice mindfulness, and this is kind of part of that whole Zen Buddhist thing. EVERY moment is the last time I'll experience that moment. They are all precious. Not only think of things you do as if you were doing it for the last time, but also try to just find the beauty in any situation, like it's the last time you're going to see anything. Sitting at a dirty bus stop in a bad part of town? There's still something you can appreciate that will make you smile if you're looking for it.We should always remind ourselves of this.
It's enough to make you tear up a little bit (not that I would ever tear up).
Awesome. I've been practicing for the past couple of years, ever since I realized my life is finite, but it's hard to do all the time. I'm lucky if I manage 4 or 5 times a day... in fact, I think 4 or 5 times a day is pretty good. Is it possible to progress to the point where it happens continuously? I like the idea that it's something that can be practiced, it's a habit that can be developed, something that can be more and more natural. I really can't think of a better goal in life.
Are you talking about practicing mindfulness 4 to 5 times a day or meditation? I agree. Changing your thoughts, which change your mood and attitude, is very rewarding, and something I really wouldn't have thought made sense or was possible a decade ago. But just like anything else, with practice comes perfection. It's a skill, and it can be trained just like anything else.I like the idea that it's something that can be practiced, it's a habit that can be developed, something that can be more and more natural. I really can't think of a better goal in life.
How eastern. -- Mindfulness in Plain EnglishOur human perceptual habits are remarkably stupid in some ways. We tune out 99% of all the sensory stimuli we actually receive, and we solidify the remainder into discrete mental objects. Then we react to those mental objects in programmed habitual ways. An example: There you are, sitting alone in the stillness of a peaceful night. A dog barks in the distance. The perception itself is indescribably beautiful if you bother to examine it. Up out of that sea of silence come surging waves of sonic vibration. You start to hear the lovely complex patterns, and they are turned into scintillating electronic stimulations within the nervous system. The process is beautiful and fulfilling in itself. We humans tend to ignore it totally. Instead, we solidify that perception into a mental object. We paste a mental picture on it and we launch into a series of emotional and conceptual reactions to it. "There is that dog again. He is always barking at night. What a nuisance. Every night he is a real bother. Somebody should do something. Maybe I should call a cop. No, a dog catcher. So, I'll call the pound. No, maybe I'll just write a real nasty letter to the guy who owns that dog. No, too much trouble. I'll just get an ear plug." They are just perceptual and mental habits. You learn to respond this way as a child by copying the perceptual habits of those around you. These perceptual responses are not inherent in the structure of the nervous system. The circuits are there. But this is not the only way that our mental machinery can be used. That which has been learned can be unlearned. The first step is to realize what you are doing, as you are doing it, and stand back and quietly watch.
I try so hard to slow down and really listen or taste or see -- but it's a headspace that's near-impossible to be in unless you've had something happen to remind you. I get caught up in routine where I'm living by rote for the next off day or the next road trip and that's frankly fucking destructive to your psyche. I'm sitting at a desk typing this but to be honest I fear desk jobs for that reason. I've had them and I guess I have one now but if I can avoid it I'm never going back. It's too easy to start wishing that gaps of time had already happened -- and that's insulting to people like terminal cancer patients. Fuck that. Great post. Badge.
I've been wondering that too -- is it possible to get this experience without some kind of big motivator like facing down a life-threatening condition. Sound like lack of a motivator makes it hard for you. I get that. Wishing gaps of time had already happened -- brilliant! Yeah, I think now of all the times I've wished I could fast-forward through boring or unpleasant time periods. I don't think I've done that in the past couple of years, even when facing an unpleasant medical experience I'm thinking "okay, what will this be like? What can I learn from it?" Interesting changes. Thanks for your ideas!
Sometimes I am aware of this, and I wonder at all the days and moments that I have passed through. When I think about people that I know that have died, I often reflect on the last time I spoke with them. Sometimes I was aware that it was our last conversation at that moment. More often, I was not. The point about the song is interesting. I can recall as a kid that a TV show was on, and then it usually wasn't on again. You either saw it, or you didn't. It seems that moments might be something that we are less aware of, because fewer things in our lives truly are. It's ironic that the specter of death can fill you with the feeling of life. It's easy to forget that we all share it.
Wow - I remember being heartbroken as a kid missing a TV show that other kids saw and were talking about the next day. When would it be on again? Maybe never. Same with Christmas specials -- you made sure you were ready to watch them! Now when we want to watch a family film there's always the hassle of gathering everyone and then some kind of delay and maybe the start time gets pushed back so that it's too close to bedtime and we will watch it a different night. When I think of how exciting it was as a kid I can't help but feel like something is lost using TV on demand.
What a wonderful challenge. I accept and I look forward to sharing my experience. Thank you for sharing this mike.