By Carol McAdoo Rehme
I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
~Henry David Thoreau
"We are food for worms, lads," declared Professor Keating, the unorthodox English teacher played by Robin Williams in the 1989 film Dead Poets Society. "Each and every one of us is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die."
I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
~Henry David Thoreau
"We are food for worms, lads," declared Professor Keating, the unorthodox English teacher played by Robin Williams in the 1989 film Dead Poets Society. "Each and every one of us is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die."
Those words, addressed to his pink-cheeked students, iced the blood in my veins when I watched the movie a few years back. Perhaps it was all in the timing. Only months earlier, I had survived the Big 5-0 and already the New Year was waving a greeting in the near distance. It seemed like the years were passing by while I simply clung to a kite tail. I felt staid, dissatisfied, unfulfilled. In short, I felt my own mortality.
This, perhaps, is why I scooted to the edge of my seat, transfixed and determined not to miss one profound word from the professor's mouth.
"Carpe diem, lads. Seize the day!" he preached to the literature class at the exclusive Welton Academy. "Make your lives extraordinary!"
Later in the movie, the teacher urged the boys to stand on his desk, as a reminder to look at the world in a different way because the universe was broader than their view of it. Everyone, I thought to myself, should have such a bohemian insurrectionary in their lives.
As I inhaled scene after moving scene, the rallying classroom cry, "Carpe diem!" sang in my ears like a mantra. I recognized the words from my four years of high school Latin class, only back then Mrs. Maag had taught the more literal translation of "carpe diem" – "pluck the day."
I liked that image better, I decided. Pluck the day.
Seize the moment.
Or, as Robert Herrick so poetically penned centuries ago, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."
Entranced, I sat as the last movie credits rolled down the screen, impulsively reevaluating my life and rethinking my annual goals.
To date, I had lived mostly from the detailed, itemized lists I created annually when the old year faded and the new one offered a fresh start. So dedicated was I to this system that I used to make separate goal lists for each of my four children, another for my husband, and even one for the dog. Why, I was known to make master lists that organized my battalion of lists! Now, however, I knew I needed to make a drastic change.
What would happen, I wondered, if I set aside my lists this next year and took Professor Keating's advice to "suck out all the marrow of life." Could I survive without daily, weekly, and monthly guides to order my hours? Could I still be productive? Reliable? Successful?
And, just that quickly, I resolved to give it a try.
I decided to embrace the unknown. I opted to live life with deliberation. I chose to make my life extraordinary.
But what, exactly, did that look like?
For me, it meant transcending the mundane in order to accept change. I discovered elasticity in me that I never knew existed. I learned to embrace serendipitous opportunities and to discover delight in the moment. Above all, this new outlook left me open to possibility.
Yes, I still dealt with the day-to-day reality of... oh... you know... the kinds of minutiae written on the lists that once consumed me. But those demands no longer determine my days. Instead, I'm open to chatty phone calls, a spontaneous lunch with a friend, and an evening walk with my husband. I'm freer to entertain, eager to extend an invitation to houseguests, and willing to organize a family reunion. I'm no longer reluctant to travel, to commit to a community project, to volunteer as an election judge.
Now, I focus less on my housework and more on enjoying my home. Instead of worrying about weight, I find pleasure in fresh food and homegrown vegetables. Rather than list all I need to do, I keep a gratitude journal of the new blessings I discover in each waking hour.
So, this New Year, as in the past few, I will make only a single resolution. A resolution I find satisfaction in writing and joy in keeping: Carpe diem!
This, perhaps, is why I scooted to the edge of my seat, transfixed and determined not to miss one profound word from the professor's mouth.
"Carpe diem, lads. Seize the day!" he preached to the literature class at the exclusive Welton Academy. "Make your lives extraordinary!"
Later in the movie, the teacher urged the boys to stand on his desk, as a reminder to look at the world in a different way because the universe was broader than their view of it. Everyone, I thought to myself, should have such a bohemian insurrectionary in their lives.
As I inhaled scene after moving scene, the rallying classroom cry, "Carpe diem!" sang in my ears like a mantra. I recognized the words from my four years of high school Latin class, only back then Mrs. Maag had taught the more literal translation of "carpe diem" – "pluck the day."
I liked that image better, I decided. Pluck the day.
Seize the moment.
Or, as Robert Herrick so poetically penned centuries ago, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."
Entranced, I sat as the last movie credits rolled down the screen, impulsively reevaluating my life and rethinking my annual goals.
To date, I had lived mostly from the detailed, itemized lists I created annually when the old year faded and the new one offered a fresh start. So dedicated was I to this system that I used to make separate goal lists for each of my four children, another for my husband, and even one for the dog. Why, I was known to make master lists that organized my battalion of lists! Now, however, I knew I needed to make a drastic change.
What would happen, I wondered, if I set aside my lists this next year and took Professor Keating's advice to "suck out all the marrow of life." Could I survive without daily, weekly, and monthly guides to order my hours? Could I still be productive? Reliable? Successful?
And, just that quickly, I resolved to give it a try.
I decided to embrace the unknown. I opted to live life with deliberation. I chose to make my life extraordinary.
But what, exactly, did that look like?
For me, it meant transcending the mundane in order to accept change. I discovered elasticity in me that I never knew existed. I learned to embrace serendipitous opportunities and to discover delight in the moment. Above all, this new outlook left me open to possibility.
Yes, I still dealt with the day-to-day reality of... oh... you know... the kinds of minutiae written on the lists that once consumed me. But those demands no longer determine my days. Instead, I'm open to chatty phone calls, a spontaneous lunch with a friend, and an evening walk with my husband. I'm freer to entertain, eager to extend an invitation to houseguests, and willing to organize a family reunion. I'm no longer reluctant to travel, to commit to a community project, to volunteer as an election judge.
Now, I focus less on my housework and more on enjoying my home. Instead of worrying about weight, I find pleasure in fresh food and homegrown vegetables. Rather than list all I need to do, I keep a gratitude journal of the new blessings I discover in each waking hour.
So, this New Year, as in the past few, I will make only a single resolution. A resolution I find satisfaction in writing and joy in keeping: Carpe diem!
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