Tuesdays With Morrie

I fought boredom today with a story about life and death. Tears won the battle. My eyes are still swollen and moist, but they feel dry and withered. I love emotion but sometimes dislike being so emotional. It's the tension of opposites. I need to learn to be less selfish and materialistic; more compassionate and appreciative.

Two years ago, someone asked me why "I'm so nice". As if I had an ulterior motive of some sort. My only answer was, "Why not?" At the time, I thought I was being nice just because I wanted to, that there was no reason for me to be mean, I liked being nice and so I was. Recently, I've come to the realization that the goodness and ambition that is in me is there partly because I'm afraid of death. Afraid that no one will come to my funeral, no one will say nice things about me, afraid that no one will mourn, no one will remember me. And so, I'm nice. It's a humbling thought, your own funeral.

On a pensive autumn evening last year, I thought to myself, "I wish everyone was afraid of death. I wish that everyone thought about it in the morning, before they got out of bed. Because after that, perhaps they'd be thankful for what they have and maybe be an inch nicer to people. And the world would be a better place." I know it sounds morbid, even a bit naive to think that the world can be made better by such a simple thing. But death is the great equalizer and we are all the same in the end. We need others to live when we are born, we need others in the end, when we are dying.
And here's the secret: We need others in between too.
What can I do but be nice?


11:59 am