The Beginning of the End

This blog post is being made not long after the beginning of the year 2023—and today is the beginning of the end. In just 360 days, this year will end—and the earthly life of some of you Thinking Friends, or my own life, may come to an end before then. That’s worth thinking about, isn’t it?  

This is my 999^th blog post, so as announced previously, after my next post (planned for Jan. 10), I will no longer be posting blog articles every five days as I have done since early in 2010. I do hope to continue writing—but no longer on a schedule with deadlines.

I’ll be writing more about this next time, but since I will turn 85 this year, I have decided to reduce things that make for stress, even though writing these blog articles has mostly been eustress (= “moderate or normal psychological stress interpreted as being beneficial for the experiencer”).

It remains to be seen how often I will make blog posts in the months ahead, but they will, no doubt, be far fewer than now—and probably more personal and reflective as I likely won’t do nearly as much reading/research in writing new articles. So, this is the beginning of the end to my planned blogging.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life. These words, which have almost become a cliché, are attributed to Charles Dederich (1913~97) by The Washington Post (in their 12/10/78 issue). So today, and every day, is the beginning of the end, and we should make the most of it. 

Recently, I’ve been reminded again of the old Stoic emphasis on memento mori, the Latin words often translated as “remember you must die.” As explained on Stoic.com’s website, “The point of this reminder isn’t to be morbid or promote fear, but to inspire, motivate and clarify.”

The same website has these significant words: “The Stoics used Memento Mori to invigorate life, and to create priority and meaning. They treated each day as a gift, and reminded themselves constantly to not waste any time in the day on the trivial and vain.”

From far back in history, some people have carried coin-like medallions with an image of a skull and the words memento mori as a regular reminder to make the present as meaningful as possible because of the inevitability of death. Such “coins” are readily available for purchase even now.* 

There are more modern ways to be regularly reminded of death, always with the purpose of making life now more meaningful. For some time now, my son Keith has subscribed to the daily reminders sent by WeCroak.com, which has this invitation: “Find happiness by contemplating your mortality.”

Earlier this week I signed up to get their short daily quotes, and all of them have certainly been worth thinking about.

When the Grim Reaper comes, I’ll just say, Reap away. That is what I said to June, somewhat light-heartedly, the other day. I certainly am in no hurry for the end to come, but I can honestly say that I have no fear of death—and that I want to make the most of every day until the end.

I am currently reading a book theologian Larry L. Rasmussen wrote for his grandchildren.** The final letter, written in April 2021, ends with the words of a Mexican folk hymn that I don’t remember ever hearing.

That hymn is included, in Spanish and in English, in The New Century Hymnal (#499). Here’s verse one, which expresses well my foundation for living meaningfully now and for thinking about the end with no fear:

In all our living, we belong to God; 
and in our dying, we are still with God;
So, whether living, or whether dying, 
we belong to God; we belong to God.

_____

* I don’t have and don’t intend to buy such a coin, but they are available for purchase here for $26.

** Rasmussen’s book is The Planet You Inherit: Letters to My Grandchildren When Uncertainty’s a Sure Thing (2022). At the end of next week, I will be submitting a review of it to The Englewood Review of Books.

Note: Arthur C. Brooks’s new book is From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life (2022). While it is written for people his age (he was born in 1964) rather than for people my age, his fifth chapter is “Ponder Your Death.” He doesn’t write specifically about memento mori, but he emphasizes that important idea: “Remembering that life won’t last forever makes us enjoy it all the more today” (p. 105).

Also, yesterday a Facebook friend sent me a link to this article posted on Christmas Day: “Want To Be Happy in 2023? Repeat This Four-Word Phrase.” Those four words are “remember you must die” (memento mori).