“Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come” ~Shakespeare

In The Nu Romantics the other day, this question was posed: If you were given an envelope with the time and date of your death inside, would you open it? Why? Why not? My knee-jerk reaction was, of course, “No,” harkening back to Julius Caesar’s famous quote: “Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.” But on further inspection, I realized that wasn’t true, not for me. Not at all. I’m not old. Not by societal standards. In fact, one may argue I’m still but a babe in the womb. But I’m not young either. Life’s experiences, responsibilities, they make us who we are. No two people are the same or see life the same way. Two people may look at the sunset and know it’s beautiful, aesthetically we may agree, but what of the person who doesn’t see color? What is his vision of it, who can’t see the orange and yellow and red like Nature herself had painted it just for our exhalation, where we sigh and believe for one infinitesimal moment that god exists? Is it the same as yours or mine? What of someone who has a memory that isn’t pleasant or had an experience tied to that moment of Nature’s story? No two lives are alike. And neither, then, is beauty. Almost everything we see is tied to experience. And that is very personal.
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If I had the opportunity to know death in an envelope, a necessary end to life, I would, indeed, open it. And here is the sad truth that, perhaps, on first reading the question, I didn’t want to admit. It doesn’t matter when. It will come. I get that. But I don’t often live my live as my imagination would have me, the way my dreams play inside my soul. I’m responsible. I’m loyal. And often, with it, comes obligations. Much of my life has been lived this way. What I realized after pondering this question, is not IF I would open it, but what I wished for it to say. What I realized is that I began to envision, hope, for what was inside, and the words I longed to read. Words that penned the story of the life I often wish I could lead but do not.  ​Yes. Some may think this sad or pessimistic or depressing. Maybe it is. But it's nothing if not honest. I wished, for one brief moment, that the envelope I opened would tell me my time was drawing near. Selfish you may say? Yes. It is. It's not that I don't have happiness. I do. And would not change much of my life. But it' a safe one. For once, I'd like to live a little "un" safely. Alive. In the moment of only right now, where my heart is. Hop on that plane. Hold that forbidden lover in my arms. Skinny dip for hours without worry. Take a train without knowing where my long, extended leg's foot will touch. Never wear lipstick again. Visit and talk with people I have no language in common with. Sip wine and not worry about its cost. Stand on the top of a mountain, alone, and breathe in the air. Jump off a cliff. Spend my money. Look in the mirror and not utter a single, negative thought. Touch a rainbow.
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Fear is a terrible thing. But it’s part of who I am and how I was raised. For once, yes, I’d like to just not care…I'd like to live, selfishly in one blissful moment of only right now, and see my life play as I often watch it in my mind. But I know, the truth is, I can't touch a rainbow. But the thought alone has made me smile. And for that, I am happy.