Tuesdays With Morrie Blog (about Tuesdays, which I'm writing on a Tuesday...)

The Tuesday that has inspired me the most would have to be the fourth one, in which death is discussed. The reason it's so impacting is because death keeps striking at important family members when you least expect it (my grandfather, then my cat...within the span of a few months...). Morrie says, "Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready?....'" It rang true. Death is something I've thought about frequently lately due to the subject matter. I've been looking at it from a biological perspective, a philosophical one...but never constantly. I'm never ready, and that's kind of the one admission I always withhold from myself.

      Let me explain. Before each of my three surgeries, I mostly felt sadness, and a deep philosophical questioning of the little bird: "Am I ready? Cuz if I'm not...*insert tears*" However, once I was in the car, I sort of went numb. There was nothing I could do, other than exist. It's kind of a weird feeling, looking back. There's no future or past, only present. That's kind of what Morrie is doing. He's living in the moment.

      Morrie mentions that "once you know how to die, you know how to live."  That basically sums up what he's doing: planning his death so he doesn't have to worry about his life. I also figured: "The weirdness of this situation is too much for worrying, and if I do die (which is very unlikely) I won't have to either, so why worry at all? Morrie's not worried about the end either. He's already clobbered it, domesticated it, and forced it to make him dinner. Morrie is using his end as a philosophical springboard to say what he never could at his middle. There's a lesson in the sentence I just wrote, but I can't quite put my finger on the words to express it. Philosophy is weird like that.