Reconciling the Alternative
A personal essay on the shortness of life
I had intended to publish the next article in my series on the Parricidal Nature of Therapeutic Secularism, but that is going to have to wait. One reason for postponing had to do with some technology issues yesterday that temporarily prevented me from accessing the document where my research currently lives. Another reason has to do with a doctor’s appointment I had yesterday.
Before discussing my doctor’s visit, you might be interested to know that J.R.R. Tolkien, beloved author of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, would have been 132 years old, yesterday. He was born on January 3, 1892. Had he been a hobbit himself, there may have been dancing and feasting, and raising pints with him to celebrate. But about that doctor’s appointment…
I left the doctor’s office, yesterday (on Tolkien’s 132nd birthday), with the bad news that I will certainly be dead in 100 years from now—but possibly a bit sooner if I don’t address a few health matters.
“You’re at that age…” said the good doctor.
That was the second time within a week I heard that phrase pointed in my direction. Earlier in the week, one of my grandchildren asked me why I had to wear glasses. He proceeded to inquire about what had happened to me that I couldn’t go without them. I explained to him that as people get to a certain age their eyesight begins to diminish.
“So, you’re just at that age?” He wanted to know. I obliged.
“Yes, I’m at that age…”
Well, as it so happened, all this all got me thinking about dying and how that’s goin’ to be. As trains of thought tend to behave, one tends to follow another sequentially in what my wife likes to call “the parade.” In other words, this thought was then followed by questions about whether I have used the days I have lived so far to do anything good with my life. Subsequently, I was compelled to revisit an essay I taught recently, On The Shortness of Life.
Seneca writes,
It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested. But when it is squandered in luxury and carelessness, when it is devoted to no good end, forced at last by the ultimate necessity we perceive that it has passed away before we were aware that it was passing.
That last line is profound. “…forced at last by the ultimate necessity we perceive that it has passed away before we were aware that it was passing.”
I think it was Ben Franklin who said that “Life’s tragedy is that we get old too soon and wise too late.” He probably stole that from Seneca—or from someone else who stole it from someone else who stole it from Seneca. Since men have for several millennia been forced by that “ultimate necessity” to realize they became old before they became wise,” it wouldn’t surprise me to learn Seneca stole that line from someone before him. But, let’s not digress too far from the point.
Seneca reminds us that each of our lives are long enough. It’s not that we have short lives. The problem is we have short memories. We forget all the people who died with the regret of having wasted their lives, squandering it in luxury and carelessness, instead of investing the time they were given.
“Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested,” declares Seneca.
But what is a person to do if they reach mid-life, say, and realize they’ve wasted so much of it? What if much of your life has been squandered in luxury and carelessness, but now you are aware that it is passing? Is it too late?
Reconciling the Alternative
I say we must reconcile with the alternative. Perhaps you recall the Chinese proverb that reminds us the best time to plant a fruit tree is twenty years ago—but the next best time is today. That’s reconciling the alternative. I can’t go back twenty years but waiting any long than today to plant the tree will just leave me where I am currently in twenty years from now.
I wrote about one of my own “alternative” experiences in Faith in Loving in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of a Former Fundamentalist. Perhaps an excerpt from this work in progress is worth sharing here.
A Deadly Dilemma
I staggered to a shallow place where I gained my footing. Holding onto my raft, I stared downstream, then scoped the surrounding landscape. I could hear my heartbeat over the rushing water and restrained myself from vomiting.
Convinced we had drifted into a theological and philosophical current that was sweeping us up into a deceptive river of abuse and manipulation, I anticipated the deadly cataract that waited up ahead.
It would surely plunge us over the cliffs of desperation, and there would be casualties. In my mind’s eye, I could see my children’s heads dashed against the rocks of religion, their hearts eaten by the sharks of cynicism, and all of us drowned in the sea of despair!
To crawl out of this river meant leaving behind the raft we had built and proclaimed as authentic, a raft we had used to rescue many a castaway.
It meant the possibility of disappointing friends and followers who would eventually abandon us—and angering others who would fire on us with their muskets just to justify their own place in the river.
It meant a steep climb with a confused and reluctant family in tow. It meant scaling the loose shale of the theological hillside dressed in heavy garb still dripping with sordid fundamentalism—clothing unsuited for any venture, let alone a steep ascent.
It meant dodging land mines and tumbling boulders aimed to keep us in this course of the river, all the while navigating the unfamiliar landscape with just a compass, uncertain where we were headed or where we would end up.
It meant scrapes and bruises, sore feet and bloody knees. It meant long cold nights shivering under the stars with little provision, hunkered down waiting for the evil that was prophesied to befall those who left the course.
Evaluating my dilemma, I became confident of only two things: If we left the river, we were in for a long, painful haul; but the alternative was worse.
Desperate Measures
The doctor made it clear to me yesterday that my health was in jeopardy. I’m not dying presently, but I do need to take immediate action to thwart my growing waistline and developing health concerns.
The problem is I hate proper diets and exercise. I know it academically it is good for me, but I love bread and pasta, beers and burgers, and tacos and tequila. And, I hate that swimmy, nauseating feeling that comes with working out. And I hate feeling tired or sore for the rest of the day. I hate the inconvenience of getting dressed for exercise and spending the time it takes to do an exercise routine. I’d rather spend that time doing something else (like reading a book). But I know the alternative is worse and addressing my health is time well invested toward a good end.
We’ll never do what is necessary to succeed at the important things, like investing and not wasting the life God gave us, until we reconcile with the alternative. Nothing worth doing is ever easy, but not doing it is worse. Decisions worth making, goals worth setting, and dreams worth pursuing are going to be trying. They are going to be arduous. They are going to be time-consuming. They are going to be expensive. They may even be dangerous or seemingly impossible.
Whatever they are, you’ll have to sacrifice something to achieve them. It will take planned neglect. If there is no sacrifice involved, it’s probably not worth doing. If there’s not planned neglect, the important things will never get done, and the “long-enough life” you’ve been given will seem too short.
It’s unfortunate that most of us only dream—and talk! We talk about losing weight, talk about getting out of debt, talk about getting an education, talk about learning an instrument, talk about pursuing a career change, talk about writing a book, or talk about starting a business or ministry.
We talk because it’s cheaper than paying the price. And we keep dreaming to deceive ourselves into thinking we’ll get around to it one day. To merely dream or merely talk is to die of the alternative.
This deserves repeating one more time: we’ll never do what is necessary to succeed at “the accomplishment of the very greatest things”until we reconcile with the alternative.
Compelled to Act
It was Hadassah’s dilemma when she was called to stop the genocide of Haman. She was the only one with the power to intervene. But she feared losing her life on the harrowing mission—until she came to grips with the alternative.
Someone needed to stop a madman bent on genocide. The life of every Jew in the empire was at stake. Not even Hadassah was safe. Her first response was to retreat to the security she imagined existed in her husband’s courts. She was experiencing a form of Genovese Syndrome. It wasn’t logical, but her tendency was to cover her eyes and hope the monster wouldn’t see her while he decimated the rest of the Jewish population. Finally, Mordecai was able to show her the alternative: not even she was safe from the coming holocaust. (excerpt from Discover Your Significance)
Until Hadassah finally understood the alternative was death, she wasn’t compelled to act. And that’s true for us even if the alternative is not literal death. Procrastination can be the death of something else important, like a dream, or a relationship–or even our heart (i.e., discouragement, depression, and despair). If the consequences of not acting are big enough, we will be compelled to do what we must to avoid the alternative.
Successful students finish their homework even when they don’t feel like it because the alternative is worse. Successful relationships thrive because lovers resolve conflicts in spite of their prideful inclinations because the alternative is worse. Successful writers finish their daily word count even when they are tired or distracted or busy, because the alternative is worse.
What is it you have been longing to do? What are you supposed to create? What decision have you been putting off making? What dream do you need to stop talking about and start acting on? If you believe it’s too late, reconcile the alternative.
What regrets will you have to live with if you don’t act?
None of us are hobbits, so none of us will live to see our 132nd birthday, or even our 111th. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested. Let it never be said of us that it was the ultimate necessity that caused us to realize our lives had passed away before we were even aware that it was passing.
For kicks, I’ll leave you with what is, in my humble opinion, one of the best monologues in television history about living: give me that just one time.
I look forward to reading “Faith in Loving in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of a Former Fundamentalist”. Our family is on a similar journey out of this dangerous river. We have had to wade through the regret and past discouraging sunk cost fallacies to start reconciling the alternatives. Thank you so very much for sharing your thoughts. Tremendously encouraging.