Tonight I poured Frosted Flakes into my bowl, almond milk on top, seeking solace in the contents. My arms sunburned and my heart sore, I searched for something to silence the dull ache that likes to hang onto my soul. Through the sound of the crunch that ruined the perfect silence of the house, I realized that I and all the rest of the world are searching for a cure. A cure for this crazy mess of a thing we like to call life. With every bite, I saw more clearly that the search for an automatic cure to all our problems and confusion of life is futile and would never yield any results.
With the struggles of everyday life, there is no Mary Bird Perkins, no research that can save. We’re all living and dying at the same time and there is nothing we can do to stop it. Many of us try treatments of various sorts to feel better about life: money, significance, sex, work, sleep, and family. Regardless, nothing can cure death and all we are doing is making ourselves sicker. Like chemo, false treatments only rob the joy of what life we do have left and steal the person we are supposed to be in this world.
However, the call to stop searching for a cure for our terminal condition we call life is not one of giving up, laying down arms, and rolling over in despair. Instead, it’s a call to realize what is truly important, to gather people around, and to help where we can. Maybe if we stop salving our wounds we can learn to die, or even live, gracefully, with beauty and with care.
This life is not about finding a cure for ourselves, which we feel in the depths of our soul we desperately need. It’s about surrendering ourselves and in surrender, discovering the joy of freedom. It’s about joining hands with others, maybe wiping a tear, and saying, “This is life. Let’s figure it out together.”
As people approach death, the world suddenly becomes clearer, a little less like wading through mud blindfolded at midnight. Slowly, those close to slipping away from this life stop caring about what they look like or the size of their banking account. They realize the only thing that matters is love, receiving, giving, and maybe a bit of both. Maybe we should begin to learn those lessons now instead of waiting until our time is coming to an end.
Beauty surrounds us every day--bird calls, children laugh, the clouds in sky lumber along until the stars come out to dance the night away. Too many of us will never notice until someone in scrubs tells us the news we never wanted to hear. Unless we begin to realize that today is life, precious and scarce, and every day is one day closer to death. When we stop searching for the key to save us from the inevitable end, we will find that the key is to let go and open our eyes to the beauty of this world.
We can rest in the fact that our only job is to die gracefully and to live at peace with love. Knowing our purpose is to do our best, love all people including ourselves, and gently go one small step forward at a time. There is no ending or no grand finale, for life is completed a moment at a time, with each tick of the clock another one gone. With each breath, we are both living and dying, and maybe our goal should just be to do so as graciously as we can.
Next time we reach for the frosted flakes, or drink the wine or whatever we do to attempt to ease the pain, we must simply remember that we are allowed to be messy. We can falter or fumble around because we are dying and living right along with everyone else. We aren’t alone; we are in Noah’s ark, except with the whole world on board and there isn’t any land. Accept the olive branch and take a deep breath. Instead of searching for a cure, let’s try living instead with our hearts open wide, arms outstretched, eyes clear with wonder at the beauty of our messy, painful, lovely, blessed lives.
