"Think of Death Every Day?" No—I Choose to Live
“Think of death every day.”
No, I can't. It stresses me out. I find myself gently disagreeing with the ancient text.
I have no time to dwell on the end; life is not a countdown, it is a journey. I want to breathe in the rich aroma of living and feel the crispness of a morning breeze. I want to hold onto the magic of winter quietly giving way to spring, to witness the quiet rupture of a bud blooming into full life. I want to capture these moments, share them with my daughters, and pass them down to my granddaughters.
I want to share my joy and borrow the grief of others. I want to wrap pain in a blanket of comfort and pleasure. I want to spend my days earning a living without ever forgetting the importance of fun. I want to plant trees in the desert to cool the earth, to help end conflict, and to bring people together.
I adore beauty in all its forms—the way the morning sun paints the dawn, and how the western sky gracefully yields to dusk. I love watching the first evening star appear, quietly welcoming the rest of the cosmos into the night.
When darkness falls, I lay my head down peacefully because I truly lived the day. To me, an unlived life is simply death in disguise.
So when Death finally comes for me, I will smile and say, "Kadinchey"—thank you. By then, I will have discovered the true essence of life; death will merely be its natural complement.
