Pacuvius, who by long occupancy made Syria his own, used to hold a regular burial sacrifice in his own honor, with wine and the usual funeral feasting, and then would have himself carried from the dining room to his chamber, while eunuchs applauded and sang in Greek to a musical accompaniment:
“He has lived his life, he has lived his life!”
Thus Pacuvius had himself carried out to burial every day. Let us, however, do from a good motive what he used to do from a debased motive; let us go to our sleep with joy and gladness; let us say:
“I have lived; the course which Fortune set for me is finished.”
And if God is pleased to add another day, we should welcome it with glad hearts. That man is happiest, and is secure in his own possession of himself, who can await the morrow without apprehension.
When a man has said: “I have lived!”, every morning he arises he receives a bonus.
I have never seen anyone do quite what Pacuvius did, though I have come across instances of similar vanities among people who believed themselves to be superior.
There was the doctor’s wife who cleverly scheduled multiple surprise parties for herself, intended for different audiences, during what she called her “birthday month”, or the priest who meticulously planned his own funeral, and hosted a dinner where we were all told what our assigned roles would be.
But Pacuvius takes the cake, since he actually had to pretend to be dead in order to give his life some sense of meaning.
Wouldn’t it be better, and easier, if I just lived today with as much understanding and love as I can muster, not concerned one bit with any ostentation, and freed from worrying about the burdens of the past or the future?
Please don’t tell me that it isn’t that simple, because I am learning that it really is that simple; it is only my own false imaginings that are constantly dragging me down.
Without letting myself be enslaved by circumstances, however pleasant or unpleasant they may seem, it becomes possible to see the sun rising, and to think only of the opportunity to act with appreciation and conviction, on however humble a scale.
With the setting of the sun, I can then be satisfied with my efforts, a small kindness here, an act of self-control there, a sense of gratitude throughout, and I will not care if I was seen to be doing any of it. I stood my watch, and I am now relieved of duty.
Will there be another day? Perhaps, but I should never take it for granted. If there is, I will have the privilege to live it again, as if it were another life.
What? You say that I may not even see the end of this day? It could well be, and it is not for me to decide. Then I will revel in this hour, or in this minute; it is still enough to be fully happy.
My mother advised me to always wake up with a sense of joy, and my wife advised me to never go to bed harboring any resentments. That seems so difficult, until all the empty diversions and petty conceits are stripped away, when only the human core remains. More time, or more money, or more recognition will not help me to say that “I have lived!"
“He has lived his life, he has lived his life!”
Thus Pacuvius had himself carried out to burial every day. Let us, however, do from a good motive what he used to do from a debased motive; let us go to our sleep with joy and gladness; let us say:
“I have lived; the course which Fortune set for me is finished.”
And if God is pleased to add another day, we should welcome it with glad hearts. That man is happiest, and is secure in his own possession of himself, who can await the morrow without apprehension.
When a man has said: “I have lived!”, every morning he arises he receives a bonus.
I have never seen anyone do quite what Pacuvius did, though I have come across instances of similar vanities among people who believed themselves to be superior.
There was the doctor’s wife who cleverly scheduled multiple surprise parties for herself, intended for different audiences, during what she called her “birthday month”, or the priest who meticulously planned his own funeral, and hosted a dinner where we were all told what our assigned roles would be.
But Pacuvius takes the cake, since he actually had to pretend to be dead in order to give his life some sense of meaning.
Wouldn’t it be better, and easier, if I just lived today with as much understanding and love as I can muster, not concerned one bit with any ostentation, and freed from worrying about the burdens of the past or the future?
Please don’t tell me that it isn’t that simple, because I am learning that it really is that simple; it is only my own false imaginings that are constantly dragging me down.
Without letting myself be enslaved by circumstances, however pleasant or unpleasant they may seem, it becomes possible to see the sun rising, and to think only of the opportunity to act with appreciation and conviction, on however humble a scale.
With the setting of the sun, I can then be satisfied with my efforts, a small kindness here, an act of self-control there, a sense of gratitude throughout, and I will not care if I was seen to be doing any of it. I stood my watch, and I am now relieved of duty.
Will there be another day? Perhaps, but I should never take it for granted. If there is, I will have the privilege to live it again, as if it were another life.
What? You say that I may not even see the end of this day? It could well be, and it is not for me to decide. Then I will revel in this hour, or in this minute; it is still enough to be fully happy.
My mother advised me to always wake up with a sense of joy, and my wife advised me to never go to bed harboring any resentments. That seems so difficult, until all the empty diversions and petty conceits are stripped away, when only the human core remains. More time, or more money, or more recognition will not help me to say that “I have lived!"
Written in 6/2012
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