Unbearably light, undeniably precious
As a terse warning to an amnesiac world, “history repeats itself” is clever. Applied to an individual lifetime, the old axiom is as false as it would be fantastic.
We live without the benefit of cosmic second chances, do-overs, fresh starts. Each decision we make is frighteningly final; without the ability to rewind time’s relentless spool, we must choose and discern without comparative wisdom. Once we’ve made a choice, we can’t take a mulligan and test alternate outcomes — Robert Frost’s “road less traveled” may take form in the rearview mirror as an eight-lane interstate of regret.
That’s the premise of Franco-Czech novelist Milan Kundera’s “The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” a neat bit of philosophical fiction that left its imprint on at least one more addled mind this month. The theme of whimsy’s painful permanence resonates here at the intersection of roads not taken, paths unmapped and forbidden freeways where the fortunate cruise contentedly.
If life only happens once, every day is divine, every choice vital, each word echoes with the sober sagacity born of the realization of our fleeting existence. This is no trial run, no practice test. It’s the final exam — the only one we’re going to get.
It’s become my goal to live passionately, to savor euphoria and goodness at every turn and to fiercely pursue wise, noble and worthy desires.
A sizzling carton of Chinese takeout is bliss. A stand-up comedy show is wry enrichment for the mind. A full-mouthed gulp of chilled orange juice is rejuvenation. The anthemic chorus of a power ballad is delightful defiance.
At the considerable risk of seeming prosaic, life is what happens when we’re waiting for life to happen. The cotton candy future may or may not arrive, but dinners, day trips and hours-long conversations in parking lots are the glittering moments that make our stay on this swirling sphere truly meaningful.
Take off the training wheels and live life unrestrained. This is it. Let’s make it worth remembering.