Hi Reader, This week's newsletter has a sponsor! Check out the PS for details. Thanks to Shortform. Earlier today I dropped my parents off at the airport after a visit. My daughter was sad to see Oma and Papa leave. I told her I was sad, too. It can be hard to gauge how upset a toddler actually is. She seemed mostly recovered 30 minutes later while I'm still feeling pensive. For as long as I can remember, goodbyes have gotten to me like this. As we were driving home I noticed myself reflecting on death. The ultimate goodbye. Sometimes we see it coming. That's something a lot of people worry a lot about, but what I hear most often from people going through it is that it's a blessed opportunity to live with that knowledge. I'm reminded of a TED talk I saw years ago (I can't find a link to it now). A doctor was describing the conversation where he'd told an older man about his terminal diagnosis. Sitting next to his patient, he'd gone through the treatment options from most to least aggressive, and when he finished he asked, "so, what are you going to do?" The old man smiled, clapped his doctor on the knee and said, "son, I'm gonna go fishing." There's something so moving about this kind of determination to enjoy each moment of life. If any of it matters at all, it matters in part because it ends. The other option seems to be to withdraw into oneself in an attempt to avoid the pain of it all. That doesn't really feel like being alive to me. But, boy, does that other option hurt sometimes. Finding the joy in this moment, whether on a fishing trip or breakfast with the family or sharing a smile with a passing stranger. It's all passing away to make room for the next moment. Life is beautiful, and it's also relentless. For now, I myself must say goodbye. It's been a busy week. Here's to what the next moment will bring. I'll see you next week. Goodbye (for now), -Michael P.S.
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Weekly reflections on existence, meaning, and exploring the experience of coming home