Life is short, so goes the old cliche.
I feel the truth of this in my bones. And so as I ruminated on this nugget of wisdom, it gave me a choice between two actions.
One, ignore the cliche. We all become worm fodder eventually, and we cannot do so much about it… except be 100% organic so the worms would not suffer from any terminal disease or long-term side effects when they do their bit for Mother Nature and go through the process of breaking down our lipids, adipose tissues, muscle mass, bones, et cetera, so we could revert to being of the earth, literally. Not that the generation of worms would also be here for long.
The second option left me thinking about the paradox of everything. Enough prepubertal musicians have belted out what they wish to do since life is indeed timed like a parking meter — even though I have yet to see a real parking meter. Tee hee.
Also, films abound about what one would do because his or her days are numbered. To nail the message home, we see characters willing to go to outrageous heights to fully experience life because the parking meter is slowly ticking to zero. And predictably, there is a sense of self — even contentment — at each ending.
As expected, we become aware of our own mortality. Watching films carrying the old cliche banner also spurs us to make our own lists. Or be more gregarious with life.
So, tee hee on that.
And if you, dear Reader, have gone on reading as far as this part, I shall tell you that the next lines involve a list of things I wish to do before the old cliche is proven correct once again. I do not wish to exit by just sitting on the sidelines and then begging at the last minute for another chance because I have not done what I wanted…
Before the Grim Reaper makes her call in her sequined ballroom gown and jewel-encrusted scythe, I wish to at least
- learn three foreign languages (German, French, and Thai)
- reach the summit of Mt. Apo
- hold a bake-off for the benefit of the folks in my tropical jungle home
- spend a month on an island so I could paint
- drive a top-down on Spain’s Costa del Sol
- eat baked Alaska all by myself
- take Faith on a hot-air-balloon ride
- travel with Tata to Jamaica
- get lost (and eventually found) in the Amazon jungle
- discover either an unnamed planet or an unidentified species of the Animal Kingdom
- see the Perseids meteor shower
- be in Japan for cherry-blossom season
- taste authentic maple-syrup-on-snow candy
- spend a year on an island to write — and actually finish — the story of my ancestors
- attend a Samhain ritual with friends, complete with bonfires and roasting meat and the works
There… the proverbial bucket list. Nothing fancy. Still, I look forward to the coming days when I get to scratch off items from my catalog. Before it’s game over.
Here’s to life. And to worms.