Lifeletter #147: Pass It On

I spoke with a dear old friend tonight on the phone, about a friend of ours who was ill and nearly died last year.

“How is he?” I asked her.

“Well,” she said, “since coming that close to death, he’s not the same.”

“What happened to him?” I asked her.

“He’s softer,” she said, “more open, available, grateful for the small things.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, “I’ve seen that happen. Even in the Death Cafes. A brush with death is powerful medicine.”

“Yes,” she said, “like that practice Carlos Castenada received from Don Juan: to imagine death sitting over his left shoulder, all the time.”

“But we don’t do that practice, do we?” I said. “We fall asleep again and again and believe we are going to live forever.”

After our conversation I was pondering all of the things we do to try and wake ourselves up from the collective trance of death won’t really happen to me until sometime much later. Extreme sports, drugs, accidents, and god knows what other kinds of craziness must often be life trying to wake itself up and take a good look around.

There is something so refreshing about the truth. It’s a good thing. We could share it a lot more with each other. Those very annoying emails you receive that inform you that you must read and pass along the good news to 18 people that you love—they never say, “Guess what? You might not be here tomorrow.”

But this one does. Pass it on.

 

This evening, the sturdy Levi’s
I wore every day for over a year
& which seemed to the end
in perfect condition,
suddenly tore.
How or why I don’t know,
but there it was: a big rip at the crotch.
A month ago my friend Nick
walked off a racquetball court,
showered,
got into his street clothes,
& halfway home collapsed & died.
Take heed, you who read this,
& drop to your knees now & again
like the poet Christopher Smart,
& kiss the earth & be joyful,
& make much of your time,
& be kindly to everyone,
even to those who do not deserve it.
For although you may not believe
it will happen,
you too will one day be gone,
I, whose Levi’s ripped at the crotch
for no reason,
assure you that such is the case.
Pass it on.

– Steve Kowit

 

 

with love,

Shayla