The aphorism I selected was, "What if today were my last day on Earth?" What Morrie means by this is, "Would you be ready to go if it was, in fact, your last day on Earth?" The Buddhist bird is basically a personification of that, but what does it come down to at its core? What it's all really asking (the book, this unit, most of the year, even), is: Are you living your life to the fullest and not taking your youth and health for granted? This entire 8th grade year has been basically looking forward and looking backward at the same time: hope for the future mingled with past regrets and present triumphs. Fifth grade didn't really have this much weird retrospection and foresight mixture, but maybe that's because it flowed better together: one ended, another began. It's like we're at the end of a movie trilogy, with a distant-set sequel movie right around the corner, and Morrie's breaking the fourth wall for us, kind of like the little bird...and now we're back where we started. That's unusual.
I'd probably relate this to the book We All Looked Up by Tommy Wallach. In it, a comet (dubbed Ardor) has a 66% chance to make the Earth into the Powder. It's going to arrive in 2 months, and we see society degrade into very little by the time the comet shows. The book answers the question posed by the aphorism in the best way possible: "We'd have a giant party!" The book ends just before the comet hits, or doesn't. We don't know, and I think that's the beauty of it. More specifically, society's deconstruction ends up being the focus of a main character's blog, as people stop caring and life stalls and comes to a halt. It's scary to look at, honestly. All of that kind of mirrors Morrie's degradation as he uses his own mortality as a talking point, except spread to society as a whole.
I agree with this aphorism because I seem to be living it. Just as soon as I start taking my health as something I'm always going to have: surgery, followed by a barrage of indignities and wasted, ruined, days. As a result, I've sort of started living in the moment: never focused too far on the future and distant events, instead slowing down and focusing on a day-by-day basis. Morrie did much the same. On page 46 of the PDF (which I have linked below), it mentions that, "Morrie said no; to tell the truth, he was less afraid. He said he was letting go of some of the outside world, not having the newspaper read to him as much, not paying as much attention to mail, instead listening more to music and watching the leaves change color through his window." I've been doing that too. I skim past most of the politics, because it's basically a pit of venom, and that's not really healthy for me. Instead, I'm using that time that I have to progress forward and, at the same time, make sure I have things done while I have the capacity to do them (i.e. me not being laid up from another surgery.) I've learned to let things go, but sometimes I take them back, also. Since our two most important family summer traditions (Dells Trip and Pool Party Wednesdays) have basically disappeared, I'm left grasping at other things. I kind of need tradition as an anchor, and with that gone, it's like I'm a balloon that's dwindling. Mitch and the food also act as anchors for Morrie. On page 42 of the PDF, Mitch says, "I still shopped every week and walked in with bags to show him, but it was more for the look on his face than anything else. When I opened the refrigerator, I would see an overflow of containers." It's hard, seeing this, just like it's hard when I'm trapped on the couch. As a result, we grab and clutch what we have left, even if there is no real point. It satisfies us, though, makes it possible to let go of things if it is, in fact, our last day on earth.
My own aphorism would probably be, "Any situation that appears to be your cosmic punishment has a way out, no matter what." Just like RIC (The Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago) seemed tailor-made to be my ultimate punishment, to the point where I thought that I had died and been booted into the underworld: No privacy, little sleep, and grueling physical labor. Of course, I was released...the literal day before school started. But I was out, at least!
The PDF
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