To Live

In the northwest quarter of Madrid lies the quiet neighborhood of Saconia where most of the hustle and bustle comes from children getting to and from school. Each morning, my companion and I would pass by the school playground as the children would laugh and giggle as they ran and played. Their carefree attitudes reminded me of the happiness that can sometimes get lost as we mature into responsible and ostensibly more rational adults.

I saw the beginnings of that maturation when our passing coincided with the appearance of the teacher. Suddenly, all games would cease and the children would quickly form lines, waiting to be called into their classes. Innocence remained the primary characteristics of their countenances, but some had already mastered the ability to lose any sense of joyous expression. These few adroitly eliminated anything that resembled the happiness they displayed moments before and in its place glared a stoic, almost lifeless gaze.

Leaving the children behind, we continued on our path to a bus stop on a street named Antonio Machado. I had never heard of him. But seeing his name day after day I did a bit of research and discovered that he is one of the greatest authors I have ever read. Whether writing in verse or prose, Antonio Machado captures the human condition and lies it before his readers in ways that spark natural curiosity and offers a path of discovery that is both expansively universal and breathtakingly intimate.

Few topics compel such a need for greater insight as the questions that surround death. The end of mortal existence brings such angst and seemingly natural fear that we tend to avoid any exploration of its meaning and role in our life. Antonio Machado paraphrased the ancient philosopher, Epicurus, when Machado wrote, “Death is something we should not fear, because as long as we are, death is not and when death is, we are not.”

What a liberating thought! Death certainly deserves our respect but it has no right to cause us fear. When I have friends and loved ones who struggle with overwhelming feelings of loss and sorrow that come from death, I strive to support them in their emotional processing. Those emotions are real and they belong to them. It is not my place to expect them to feel in any particular way. Yet I hope for the day that they and I can together look at death as something that we do not fear.

When we are sad and feeling low we tend to slow down. Too often we limit both our physical activity and our emotional opportunities. We feel guilty for wanting joy. We feel unworthy of the carefree elation of childhood. This need not be so. When we are ready to shed our grief we can find that joy by making simple choices.

We can choose to run.

We can choose to play.

We can choose to laugh.

We can choose to live.

And then, we will not fear death.