Get busy living

I have always liked that line spoken by Morgan Freeman in the movie Shawshank Redemption: "Get busy living or get busy dying." We always have a choice, don't we? We can get on with life, despite the obstacles, real or imagined, we encounter each day. Or we can acknowledge to ourselves that we just don't want to play anymore, throw in the towel, and focus on the end. Either way, better to be honest with ourselves, in my opinion - to do otherwise is to dishonor life.

Over the past year I've found multiple obstacles in my path - the prospect of losing Fig being one of them. At times I have felt overwhelmed, and briefly wondered if it wouldn't just be easier to give up and retreat to a smaller existence, one more familiar and safe, even if it amounted to the existential equivalent of treading water. Thankfully, a small but persistent voice inside always calls me back to the path, and friends - including Fig - have provided encouragement, whether consciously or not. Fig is dying, but he is focused on life each waking moment. How can one not be inspired by his example?

So let me raise my glass to Fig, for he is indeed living every drop of his Life, and in doing so, lights the path for others. L'chaim, Fig!

The paradox of planning for the end

Today I made inquiries about home pet euthanasia, and a local vet clinic gave me a recommendation after I unsuccessfully searched on the web for someone to euthanize Fig when his quality of life is significantly diminished by the cancer. (For those in need, use "home pet euthanasia" as the search term and you will find at least a couple of national directories; there just weren't many listed for my area, so try local vets for other recommendations.)

I read some months ago that it is better to find someone ahead of time as well as to make decisions about disposal of your pet's body. Just as many people make their final arrangements in advance of need, it seems wise to make these decisions when we are not grieving the loss.

Still, it seems a bit of a paradox to think about death, and even to plan for it, prepare for it, when we are living. Perhaps my reaction is just an emotional reflex bred by a culture that is so uncomfortable with death. Sometimes I think that being afraid to really live life, to throw ourselves into it wholeheartedly, generates an accompanying fear of death. To die when we haven't let ourselves live is to be cheated of life, right? Even if we are cheating ourselves. But to approach death mindfully, rationally, not ignoring the feelings the topic generates yet not being swayed by them - that is a means of honoring life.

So as I think and plan how best to handle Fig's passing, I resolve to do so with an appreciation of the life that is yet in him, and with gratitude for the years of love, affection, and companionship he has given me...he deserves no less.

Looking into the new year

It is the dawn of a new year, a new decade. A time for reflection and planning, a time to prepare for the challenges ahead. As it is likely that this year will be Fig's last, I am thinking both of how to ensure that the time he has left is as good as it can be and what it will be like when he is gone. When I do this, I realize the futility of straddling the fence between the present and the future - while it offers a vantage point for both, one cannot take action from that position. To move forward we must make a choice and get down from the fence.

Reflecting upon if or how we might live differently if we knew we were dying is a theme well explored in literature and film, and it offers a useful exercise for evaluating our priorities. While my assumption may be wrong, I doubt that Fig knows he is dying, so for him his days will continue as long as possible in the pattern to which he has become accustomed - long naps in his favorite warm spots, punctuated by meals, short periods of play or affectionate interaction with his people, gazing out the windows, and visiting the litterbox. Against the day when his cancer progresses to the point that he can no longer enjoy his daily routine, I hope to find someone who can administer the required injections at home, where he can pass from this life in familiar surroundings, attended by those who love him and have cared for him.

As for the human side of the equation, today I am drawn to the words of Rilke in Letters to a Young Poet: "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions." At this moment, it is good to draw a map for the future, based on priorities that become clear under the lens of a hypothetical one year left of life, and tempered by acceptance that life is filled with unexpected turns and ambiguities. Time then, to chart my course and to live each moment as it unfolds, savoring the ambiguities as part of the journey and keeping enough emptiness within that wisdom can enter.

May we all have a fruitful 2010.