tuesdays with morrie [I need to learn how to die too]

Sitting turk fashion on the swirvel chair with Don Mclean's "Starry, Starry Night" hauting the night air, still soothing me because I'm already haunted. Ah, the wonders of technology. Maybe I won't yearn for company anymore, on nights like these. -there's beauty in wild brooding moments too. Have I grown uncomfortable with loneliness? That is, not loneliess, but the state of being alone.

I'm writing on paper, bleached recycled tree fibre because, to my dismay, I realise that I need a new Words book. This is my spur-of-the-moment-after-some-pondering name for my notebooks, filled with scriblings, in various states of quality, of my mind's openess- or exposure. I think in another world where Thought is tangible, I am sometimes caught half-naked with my bum to the camera, bent down [perhaps in the midst of a hasty struggle to pull that dress up], my face partially turned to the camera, in an "O" of suprise. My hair is a set of close curls clustering my head, ala Betty Boop. Do I have to explain my thoughts to you? But that's be prose without poetry, and I'm on one of my flights of fancy [you see].

In a serendipitous [did I spell that right?] moment today, my eyes fell on a slim spine of a book whilst browsing in the library on one of my ethan hunt missions to find a me book and my heart skipped a beat even without knowing why. Tuesdays with Morrie. Why did it sound so startlingly familiar? In a rather funny coincidence, today's Tuesday too. But I don't believe in coincidences. Today must be Serenedipity Day.

"You never know how to live until know how to die."

Have you heard that before? I think of it as a cliche. Yet cliche have their beginnings in truth, most of them anyway. Some are birthed in dillusion. But we will believe what we will. So maybe, after all, all cliches have their beginnings in truth. Or supposed truth, which I think amounts to the same thing in this world. Which is, of course, completely different from the Truth. But I digress.

"It is only when you learn how to die that you learn how to live."

That was morrie's philosophy, and seeing how he lived it out, it didn't become cliche anymore. The protagonist's incredubility [ignore the bad english; adds to the character of my writing, that's my excuse. heh.] was mine.

Losing the aiblity of your body, a blessing?
Dying slowly and painfully, another?
Needing someone to wipe your bum for you cz you weren't able to lift your hands any longer, good?
How?

But it was, it was to him. Because morrie had learnt how to die, so he could live.

I need to learn how to die too. So that I focus less on the [wavering] future that only God knows, and live in the Now. The Now that we all neglect because we think it's good to be long sighted. So we plan for the Years Ahead, forgetting that foundations are built in the Today.

I need to learn how to die too. This bears thinking over.