Wrote this in January, 2010.
For the past three years, Death has looked me squarely in the eyes on a regular basis. Multiple lung collapses and surgeries, drug addiction and all of the associated problems, seizure and/or severe migraine problems, problems procuring money and shelter.
Right now I’m laying in bed with a nasty cold and mourning the loss of a Reese’s Dark Chocolate Peanutbutter Cup that I can’t eat. You see, I’m extremely sensitive to caffeine; even as little as 20 milligrams will cause me to have seizure-like symptoms (including passing out) within an hour. It just so happens that a serving of dark chocolate contains approximately 30 mg of caffeine.
I was reading posts by people with epilepsy while researching how caffeine acts as a seizure (and migraine, in some people) trigger, and noticed that a lot of people describe their symptoms as having progressed significantly throughout the time they’ve had their disease. Likewise, whatever symptoms I’ve been experiencing have progressed over the past couple years.
This led me to think about my time here and how little of it there might be. The same goes for you, by the way, even if you don’t have any sort of progressive or deadly disease. Epilepsy, as an example, occurs in 1% of the population and can show up at any time in your life without any warning. There are many, many diseases like this, and no genetic risk factor is necessary. Even if you don’t contract a disease, you can die in a car accident, a fire at your school or office, a freak avalanche while skiing, etc. People have random heart attacks in their twenties for no reason, people choke on food while eating alone.
I’m not writing this to scare anybody or raise unnecessary paranoia. Rather, I want it to be clear that this affects everyone. The condition of mortality is in no way unique to me just because I’ve had health issues.
The classic cliche goes: “if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?” I do not know when I’m going to die. It could be tomorrow, it could be next week, next year, or when I’m 120; it doesn’t really matter. When my time comes, I will die and I don’t get to take anything with me. I don’t take my money with me. I don’t take my friends with me. I don’t take my memories with me. It’s all gone. Nor am I going to opiate myself with the idea that there’s some magical afterlife equivalent to getting a one-way ticket to the Bahamas. If there is, then so be it, but there’s just no evidence to support this.
I really feel the inevitability of my death though. So what if I do die tomorrow? What could I possibly do today that will have any meaning whatsoever? What could I do that will have made today worth the struggle? If nothing, why bother doing anything at all. . .struggling through dull days in a cubicle or classroom, fighting through disease and illness, overcoming the sheer brutality that nature can bring?
I do think that there are things that make today worth living, or I would not still be here speaking with you. I would have said “fuck it” a long time ago. Fuck the emotional drama. Fuck the psychological trauma. Fuck the physical pain. Fuck these political games.
I endure it all because I know that there is joy, and beauty, and strength, and love in the world. The harder I struggle to overcome my adversary (whether it’s a person, or a weight I’m lifting while working out, or a sickness I’m fighting), the stronger I become as a result. That strength leads to joy. I believe it’s a simple fact that we cannot be happy all the time. Our brains will be depleted of the neurotransmitters that allow us to feel these emotions, or we’ll just be numb to the constant stimulation. When I was on opiates, I would feel amazing quite a bit. But sometimes it felt so good it almost hurt. Too good; I didn’t even want to feel good, but I had no choice because I’d feel too bad if I stopped. Without pain to contrast our pleasure, we have no means of fully appreciating or enjoying that pleasure. Think about how nice it is to have warm food every day. Think about how much nicer it is to someone who has been stranded on an island for a few months, or who just got released from prison. Struggle is an essential, whatever that struggle may be. A video game will eventually bore you if you play it constantly, but coming home from a long day of boring office or class time, and it’s sheer ecstasy.
Even with this in mind, those moments of joy are meaningless once we are dead. Joy is not an end in itself, therefore, but rather a necessary component of meaningful action. For anything we do to really have meaning, it needs continuity. It needs to outlast us in some way. Our race has continuity of existence through reproduction, and similarly our actions can reproduce if we do things to benefit other people in such a manner as to create benefit even once we’re gone. I might die tomorrow, but if I change someone’s life today, there will be a butterfly effect of meaningful actions. For me, making a difference in people’s lives — bringing joy to others — is a way to give my actions meaning, and brings joy to myself.
Due to the nature of mortality, this is something I need to do right now. I mean right now. Not next week. Not next year. Not when I’m out of college. Who knows if I — or you — will live that long? Every single day needs to be accomplished in a meaningful way. Time is the most scarce and valuable commodity we have; who can afford to waste any of it?
Finally, note that I’m not arguing for self-sacrifice or saying that this is right for everyone. Only that I find joy and meaning in making the world better for others. Meaning is a very personal thing, and nobody but you can decide what is right for you at any given moment.
