It’s often those who are dying that appreciate life most. They get news of a terminal illness and suddenly everything comes into focus, that niggling issue is really not important, that unfulfilled dream becomes a regret, it’s easier to forgive because there is simply no time left for anger.
No time left for anger — what a good space to be in, and how tragic we don’t learn that earlier.
In recent times if I’ve dithered about whether or not to do something, I’ve thought to myself, if I only had six months left to live, what would I do? Most of the time I do it and often it is something where if I hadn’t thought in that way, I would have rationalised my way out of it.
One of the most valuable things I ever did was on a Lifeline training course in Tokyo, Japan. At the end of the very tough training one goes through, the facilitator told us to bring a blanket and pillow to the last lecture. Once there, they told us to lay down on the floor, close our eyes and they switched off the light. Just the facilitator’s voice and our minds.
He took us to our funeral. Try it. I do whenever I can’t make a major decision. What had we died of? Were we in the town or country we wanted to be in? What sort of funeral was it, who was there, who wasn’t? Who was there that we needed to say something to, what was it? And so he went on.
On that occasion I realised I was desperately unhappy in my marriage and needed to get out of it, and I wanted to come home to South Africa. It took me three years to implement all those decisions but without that reflective event I might have tarried in an outwardly okay, but inwardly deathly relationship. I would have kept doing the ‘right thing’, what everyone else expected, but not what I needed to do.
This past weekend I cooked for 25 people at the 80th birthday luncheon of a woman who is absolutely inspirational. She and her husband have been married for 60 years. They’ve both had affairs, he confessed, but they’ve weathered them realising there was more value in their lifetime partner. What amazing wisdom, instead of the self–righteous and usually hypocritical tantrums so many indulge in, destroying what could be a great relationship 10 years from now, if only they had the wisdom to work through it.
At 80 she goes to the gym every day and produces films. Last year when her 10–year–old grandson took up squash, she learnt it too, and began roadrunning. I took up tennis to try and vaguely keep up, but decades younger than her, I simply can’t. I think I’m the worst student my hapless coach has ever had to deal with, no ball sense, forgetful…
Two months ago I went to the women–only birthday lunch of another who turned 70. Her husband, who she married when she was in her 50s — second marriage for both — arrived at some stage with a little parcel, and she took out the most gorgeous black lacy La Perla bra and panties. No one is getting old anymore; they’re having too much fun to settle for rocking chairs. It’s those of us that are younger who need to step back and look at what we need to learn and do it now.
A friend who ended her marriage in recent times and is a gorgeous, tall, clever woman said that although the divorce was amicable, she feels resentful toward her ex. “I wasted so many years with him and now I’m divorced and the available men are fat, conservative and boring! What is next?”
She is also a high–powered exec so I counselled: “Listen, at this stage you are so stressed that if Prince Charming had the bad luck to fall off his horse in front of you; you would drive over him, muttering, ‘stupid man, couldn’t he see where he was going?’ and then probably reverse over him for good measure. Even Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty had to go through kak before they could nail their prince (in a manner of speaking).
“What is next is you develop new circles of friends. Treasure the old, but do new things, meet new people, most of them will bore you, but every now and then a gem will spring out from amid all the muck. Entertain more and encourage people to bring new people to your home. Even if you don’t meet anyone new and fabulous, one of your friends might and will thank you for it.
“Even if you go to the supermarket for a loaf of bread, look good. You’ll feel better and you never know…
“Be happy. Happiness attracts.
“Be thoughtful. The universe rewards our little kindnesses in remarkable ways. And even if it doesn’t, one just feels so good being nice that it’s worth it.
“Each night before you go to sleep gives thanks for your blessings. It’s amazing how cheerful it makes you.
“Don’t look for Prince Charming. He’ll suddenly pop out of the rose bushes when he can see you are unable to drive over him. You know some of my dearest friends are now balding, middle aged, have paunches, are unsexy but are desirable, beyond measure, in their minds and the way they are. They are great conversation, are good to women and are just special. But also lots of men are terrified of succesful, confident women, go gently with them so that you can discover if you really want to know them. Look beyond the physical.
“Oh yes, and you were with your ex for all those years because you loved him and hoped things would get better. There’s a lot to be said for that sort of love, loyalty and hope. The two of you can now be good friends and in 15 years’ time that will count for a lot.”
What makes for a good life? Belief in the future. Unconquerable respect for yourself. Kindness.
I wrote these birthday wishes to a friend who is a wonderful person but who is so angry with the world that few get to know how special he is:
“You need to stop hiding, stop fearing, stop being angry.
“Stop allowing the past to cripple the future.
“It’s your only life, it’s time you started enjoying it.
“I hope you find the strength to do that in the year ahead.
“There are angels around you, trust them and they will help.”
And the cynics among you will think it all sounds so pop–psychology — it probably is. But sometimes it’s not the words as much as knowing someone really loves us and cares about us, sometimes these little things make the difference.
Having a great life is about loving life and all we meet in it — even the bad guys; they play a part in helping us to learn how to be better.
While I write this my four–year–old niece is having seven hours of open heart surgery, its a long time for a tiny person and the wait for those who love her is agonising. What also makes life great is in recognising our blessings and hoping we and those we love deserve more.
(* Amy is doing well, she is stable in ICU at Red Cross children’s hospital in Cape Town, a place of miracles and angels)
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