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Sunday, January 12, 2020

How Shall We Live?

I have become aware, to my great surprise, that I must die soon. It seems that I have a terminal disease called life. Who knew? 

Oh, I'm not about to die tomorrow, or the next day, barring some sort of unavoidable accident, but the day is definitely set for sooner than it was ten years ago, or twenty years ago. Something that should have been a no-brainer. But as I approach my 66th birthday, I suddenly think, 'Gee, I may have only five to ten years left on earth!' 

Man did that go fast or what! 

Knowing this then, how should I live? 

Peter the Disciple asked the same question in his second epistle. After describing the end of all things, he asked 'How then shall we live? What kind of people ought we to be?' Moreover, he gave the answer. 

Nonetheless, the flesh most tirelessly asserts itself. Time is short, and I need to be filled. I hunger still. I have seen so little, done so little. Nothing has ever been sufficient, nothing enough. I want to make love to a woman again. I want to see the high mountains once more. I want to catch the fish that got away. I want to have a child. I want to start new. I want to do all the things I should have done and many of the things I should not do. I want to fall like a comet, burn like a meteor. Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

How very insatiable we are. What span of years would satisfy? No, not even Methuseleh's. 

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