Tags: #notes-app #grief [[0015. looking at the screen of addiction]] | [0017.] I started reading the [My Harvard Classics](https://www.myharvardclassics.com) - a daily reading guide for "a collection of the most important books, scientific writings, philosophical arguments, poems, fiction, drama, political theory, pivotal speeches and sacred texts from the entire range of human intellectual activity". Why? Out of a desire to 1) *just start* reading more, and 2) create rituals for myself that I enjoy and help me cope with the drudgery of life. Today's reading is an excerpt from The Thousand and One Nights - Vol. 16, pp. 15-24. I'll summarize. A merchant throws a stone and accidentally kills a Jinn's son. Enraged, the Jinn demands the merchant's life in return. The merchant begs the Jinn to allow him to settle his debts and attend to his family, promising to return in a year and embrace his inevitable end. The merchant goes back home for a year and accomplishes everything he wants to do. As the merchant returns to meet the Jinn, he encounters three men who decide to follow him when they hear his story. These three men make a deal with the Jinn, trading their stories in exchange for the merchant's salvation. What struck me about the story is how the merchant, given a year to prepare for the end, accomplishes everything he wants to do. > The merchant, therefore, returned to his town, accomplished all that was upon his mind to do, paid every one what he owed him, and informed his wife and children of the event which had befallen him; upon hearing which, they and all his family and women wept. He appointed a guardian over his children, and remained with his family until the end of the year; when he took his grave-clothes under his arm, bade farewell to his household and neighbours, and all his relations, and went forth, in spite of himself; his family raising cries of lamentation, and shrieking. Death has been on my mind this past year. Mourning the deaths of loved ones, the journey of grief, and how grief reminds us of the fleeting nature and preciousness of life. I have an overly cautious habit of waiting. Waiting for things to be in place, waiting for the right time. Waiting, and probably letting opportunity pass me by. If I knew I was going to die in a year, what would I change? What would I do? I would probably marry my fiancé tomorrow. Spend a month or two traveling with him. Explore corners of the planet we haven't touched yet. Put aside some money of course, just in case the conditions of my certain death change. Spend time with my family. Eat delicious things. Spend time with my friends. Check out all those music festivals we always say we'll do one day. Do a lot of writing and journaling in my last year. Nothing groundbreaking. A lot of people would probably have the same answer. But this thought experiment, grieving the prospect of one's own death, would quickly clarify one's values. I care more about the people I love and spending time with them than anything else in the world. After that, I care about documenting my story. Our stories. Why then, given the prospect of an entire lifetime to spend with them, do I waste so much time not spending time with them? Why do I stare at my phone, make excuses not to go out to dinner, say I can't get time off work? At my age, I imagine I have an entire lifetime to do all the things we say we'll do one day. I picture life as a near-infinite line. I know it's not infinite, of course, but the fact that the end is hazy, a nebulous unknowable *sometime-somewhere-somehow* makes it feel effectively infinite. After [[0014. walking through grief]], I should know better. A lifetime could end decades from now. It could end in an hour. Life may be long or short, but it is always finite. How does that finitude change today? --- Created: March 23, 2024 Last Modified: March 23, 2024