I have a confession to make.
I am wasting time. These five words rattle in my head like coins in a pocket. I hear the clang, but fail to remedy my inaction. Like all conflicts, I search for a source. Maybe it is the arrival of March that pushes buried emotions to the top. Spring is already in the air in the desert – warmer temperatures hit the pavement, the cacti bloom with yellow and pink flower buds and the hum of new beginnings whisper in the background. Yet, this palpable happiness is splattered with the sorrow of intersecting with the anniversary of my father’s passing later this month. Every year, during March, the tightrope seems to thin even more. This year I don’t see a rope, but just a frayed string dangling with little hope of returning to its original tautness.
But like everything, this feeling and emotion is temporary. I realize the abundance of goodness. It comes from expected places like my daughter, who this week, asked several questions that highlighted her innocence – “Momma, do bugs look at us and think that we are giants? or how does a song manage to jump on to a CD? Her curiosity sparks more questions than answers. To witness and listen to her inquiries, cements my belief in beginnings. I contrast her single digit age with my over forty self. Her sprint tires me at times, but it also fills me up in a way I do not experience in other places in my life. I focus on this goodness and then again, other unexpected places of joy pops up. A recent binge on House of Cards, the happiness in reading words from a novel I adore and those daily phone calls from my mom, where we don’t say much, but that doesn’t really matter. It is the comfort of routine that holds promise.
I still question, despite this goodness. “What is the point?” raises its hand again and it forces contemplation of small and large truths, reconciling happiness and sorrow, losses and triumphs. It is so hard sometimes. Then again, is it? This past week, in my haze, I read the words of Paul Kalanithi, a distinguished nonsmoking neurosurgeon who at 36 is facing the devastating prognosis of metastatic lung cancer. I read two pieces, Before I Go and How Long Have I Got Left?, and both these pieces offered a place for my physical and metaphorical change to land. He talks about his diagnosis with poignancy:
The path forward would seem obvious, if only I knew how many months or years I had left. Tell me three months, I’d just spend time with family. Tell me one year, I’d have a plan (write that book). Give me 10 years, I’d get back to treating diseases. The pedestrian truth that you live one day at a time didn’t help: What was I supposed to do with that day? My oncologist would say only: “I can’t tell you a time. You’ve got to find what matters most to you.”
Reading this particular passage, an epiphany unraveled in my mind. Yes, I thought. You have to do what matters to you the most.
And I guess that is the point. For all of us.
Image: Blue Skies, Smiling At Me by Eric via Flickr.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Rudri, I enjoyed reading your post via Saturday sharefest. As my husband and I care for his mom with an Alzheimer’s like disease, we are constantly reminded to live “in the moment” because it really is all we are guaranteed. Right?
Cindi:
We must think of this moment and no other. As you said, we cannot predict what will happen next. Thanks for adding your insights, Cindi.
Love your opening photo. The picture is so crisp and pretty. Thank you for writing such a touching article. It gave me something to think about this morning.
I am grateful that the words resonated, Susan. Thanks for letting me know.
This is wisdom. And comfort. Thank you, Rudri. I wish you the rejuvenating breath that spring lays at our feet each year and the remembrance to be a gentle giant to the bugs in your path.
Thanks, Barbara, for your wishes. I struggle every year when March comes, but I know that I am learning so much in this sadness. It helps me appreciate the high moments even more and provides clarity to defining my purpose.
That passage you quoted makes me wonder how do you decide what matters most. From reading that passage, what matters most seems to be what you would choose to do with the shortest amount of time you have. I would say family matters most, and the things we do to provide for and care for them. I so often hear the phrase to live one day at a time or to live in the moment. Really, what more can we do? Yet, I find it a very difficult task. Our past has happened and our future is uncertain, but I live in both places. Our present is now and it is the next moment, ad infinitum – until it isn’t. Children really can bring us right into the here and now with their curiosity about things as wondrous as a bug’s perception of us. That is joy.
I love your insightful comment to my thoughts, Robin. I also suffer from living in both places at once and this is problematic in deciding what is most important in the present. This reflection is my way of trying to acknowledge that time is limited and that choosing what matters most is an active and conscious choice. Some days my intent translates into success and in other moments, I am left with my hands in the air, regretting how I chose to navigate my hours. No easy answers, but I am comforted by the thought that so many of us struggle with defining our purpose. xo
A beautifully written piece, Rudri. Thank you for directing me to Paul Kalanithi’s work. I just read “Before I Go.” This really resonated with me for some reason. Maybe it is the fact that I can relate to his experiences as a doctor or as a parent or as a family member who has been affected by cancer. He brought tears to my eyes as he spoke of the sated joy his daughter brings him. Time is a funny thing … It sometimes passes in a blur and sometimes it seems to slow to a grind. Finding joy and what matters most is what makes all the spaces in between worthwhile but its not as easy as it sounds. A lot to ponder on an early Sunday morning. Thank you for a touching and thought provoking piece. Hugs!
Thanks, Kathy, for adding your thoughts. As a doctor witnessing your patient’s angst adds another layer of complexity to this already complicated subject. I love what you said about time – the experiences define this movement and I wonder if those glimpses of brief epiphanies provides a glimmer into what matters most. Actively reflecting on this subject is not easy because it pushes you to confront your mortality and the legacy that you are leaving behind.
xoxo to you and the family.
Oh, Rudri, thank you. I don’t know Paul Kalanithi and look forward (with some trepidation, since I know it will hurt) to reading his work. this topic is on my mind today because of the death of my friend Lisa Boncheck Adams, at 45, on Friday night. She’s been publicly battling metastatic breast cancer since October 2012, and her death is a huge loss. It reminds me that I’m wasting time, too, and clarifies my sense that nothing is guaranteed, ever. xox
Lindsey,
My condolences to you. Lisa touched many, including me. Although I never had the privilege of meeting her, her words always helped to provide clarity, focus and an anthem to seek those bits of beauty. Sending you hugs and love during this difficult time. xo
Wait what are these five words? I kept counting words! 🙂 That is sad about Dr. Kalanithi, I can’t fathom that form of turn of events in ones life; whether my own or someone close to me. How would you deal? I have been trying ot focus more in my life on what matters most to me and it is hard because sometimes the things that matter are devastating to your psyche (that’s a different story though). My son matters most to me and lately his growth is a reflection of him slipping away in some form and it brings a sense of loss and sadness watching this for me throughout the last few weeks. I wonder if you experience the same thing with your daughter. Anyways, rambling 🙂 Wonderful post Rudri and I’m sure you’ve already found what matters most to you and have focused on it. 🙂 Have a great one! -Iva
The five words: What matters most to you. Yes, I experience the same with my daughter. The holding on and letting go always pushes me to tears. xo
Yes yes and yes. Lovely and true. Thanks Rudri for sharing his post.
xo A.
If we can put the guilt aside wasting time is quite enjoyable. I find some of the most beautiful moments occur when I am wasting time which means I would have missed them if I’d been busy doing something else.
Love the photo!
Susan,
You are right. Those unexpected glorious moments come when we aren’t looking for them. xo
What an amazing quote he gave (or more than one quote). I’m sad about what happened to him.
And I often wonder if bugs see us as giants! Most don’t seem that afraid of us! They are more dangerous to us in many ways.
That was a tangent. July is my weird month marking my father and now my grandfather’s passing. Well it was very strange. My grandfather passed away on what would have been my father’s birthday. My grandmother passed away on the same day he passed away – all within two strange weeks of one another.
Oh, Tamara, I did not realize that you faced so much loss in a compacted timeframe. I understand why my March is your July. Know that you aren’t alone. xoxo
Rudri. I read a piece yesterday, by Nina Badzin, and she spoke about the fact that the one thing we writers truly have to offer is our voice. As I gulp up your words here, I realize, once again, just how glorious, pure and unique your voice is. Thank you for this glorious post. Your words will stay with me for a long time. And, I look forward to reading Paul Kalanithi’s work. Thank you.
Oh, Denise, I am grateful for your words this morning. Your praise means so much.
Paul’s piece is a difficult read, but offers unmistakable clarity very few can articulate. I know you will appreciate his perspective.
I also loved Nina’s article too. My takeaway from her piece – there is room for all of us. xo
Sometimes figuring out what matter is a journey all its own. And maybe needs to come first!
A difficult thing that we still struggle with. I Am inspired yet in reality there is life that gets in the way and maybe just maybe the everyday is what we are meant to do well. Love well, live well, be kind.
Wasting time is wonderful if it makes you happy. Love this.