Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home: A Memoir

by Natalie Goldberg

I watched my mind grab for reason, for time. Time was my only treasure chest. How much? In my mind I cornered off the year. Made my problem digestible, acceptable. But I did notice, when friends visited, subtle differences. Yes, they had more energy, more mobility than I did. They were still busy in the world with the routines — the jobs, workouts, hikes, plans — they had before. No interruption. But there was something much more subtle, something I often didn’t catch until after they left: They don’t know they will die. It was constantly with me now, my mortality. It hung out on my right shoulder like an animal, patient yet hungry. It wanted me, and I knew that eventually it would have me. I asked myself in the face of it: How do I live? I recalled the Buddha’s last words: All things that are born must die. In any case continue with vigor. Meanwhile, cancer was proceeding for me.