I had this vision of me keeling over at my desk one day, halfway through a story,
my editors snatching the copy even as the medics carried my body away.
“Mitch?” Morrie said. I shook my head and said nothing. But Morrie picked up on my hesitation.
“Mitch,” he said,the culture doesn’t encourage you to think about such things until you’re about to die.
We’re so wrapped up with egotistical things, career, family, having enough money, meeting the mortgage,
getting a new car, fixing the radiator when it breaks—we’re involved in trillions of little acts just to keep going.
So we don’t get into the habit of standing back and looking at our lives and saying, Is this all? Is this all I want? Is something missing?”
He paused. “You need someone to probe you in that direction. It won’t just happen automatically.”
I knew what he was saying. We all need teachers in our lives. And mine was sitting in front of me.
Fine, I figured. If I was to be the student, then I would be as good a student as I could be.
On the plane ride home that day, I made a small list on a yellow legal pad, issues and questions that we all grapple with,
from happiness to aging to having children to death.
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