Earlier this week, I was reminded of the importance of living life to the full, and of doing it now, and every day. I know of Randy Pausch (a virtual reality and computer education pioneer) through the work I used to do, and have seen him present academic papers on several occasions. I hadn’t heard that he was dying of cancer, nor that he had made a remarkable, inspiring (and now quite famous) “last lecture” back in September (you can see the lecture in full on YouTube or Google Video).
Happily, Randy has outlived the doctors’ forecasts from last August, but he is still dying of cancer (his treatments now are to slow it, not cure it). In the meantime, he speaks openly and inspiringly about it, is living a remarkably full life, fulfilling many childhood dreams and enjoying every remaining day of “bonus time” with his wife and three kids.
Then today, on CBC’s Tapestry podcast, I listened to a rebroadcast interview (recorded in 2004) with Irish poet and scholar John O’Donohue. This inspirational man died unexpectedly at 53 years of age, on January 3, 2008. His words (in the interview as well as in his poetry and essays) often touch on death, eerily enough.
At one point in the interview, he addressed the idea of dying as possibly being similar to birth. If you could present a baby in the womb with an account of what would happen to them: they would be forced to leave the familiar comfort of the womb; they’d go through a frightening, possibly painful and claustrophobic tunnel, into a blinding light; they’d have their connection to the only life they’ve known permanently severed and then…into the unknown. Likely the baby would be terrified and beg to stay put. But…guess what? They would miss out on the chance to experience life in this world. Could the “rebirth”, that is death, be similar? Certainly it is similarly scary, but perhaps this parallel, knowing what we know “on this side” of birth, may be similarly comforting.
One beautiful and simple poem, with which he closed the interview, seemed to sum up his philosophy perfectly (humble apologies if the formatting is incorrect; I’ve only heard it recited, not seen it in print):
by John O’Donohue
I would love to live
like a river flows
carried by the surprise
of its own unfolding.