The Final Third (On Mortality, Values and Spending Time) (Ed Batista)

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In normal times we move about actually without ever believing in our own death, as if we fully believed in our corporeal immortality... A man will say, of course, that he knows he will die some day, but he does not really care. He is having a good time with living...

~Gregory Zilboorg, 1943 [1]

Ten years ago, in February 2010, my father-in-law Richard Wright died after a short, painful struggle with melanoma. Rich was hale and hearty at age 69, still a volunteer firefighter, and looking forward to a long, active retirement. But one day an unusual ache led to the discovery that he was riddled with metastatic tumors, and 12 awful weeks later he was gone. [2]

Two months after Rich's death a student of mine, Roanak Desai, died even more unexpectedly. I had only known Roanak for several months, but he was easy to connect with, and we had grown close. Roanak was just 31, with so much life ahead of him, but he contracted malaria while traveling, and it crossed over into his brain. He lost consciousness on the return flight, and although they diverted the plane to try to save him, after a few days in the hospital he was gone, too. [3,4]

My wife Amy and I had lost people we loved before, but this was different. Rich and Roanak had something special about them, and the deaths of two such people in quick succession, in such unexpected ways, was not only an occasion for grief, but also an existential reckoning. Mortality was suddenly much more palpable, something I could feel and breathe. I began to see the world, and my experience in it, from a very different perspective. I had witnessed death before, but it seemed like something that happened to other people. Now I was beginning to realize that it would, in fact, happen to me.

As a result I've thought about mortality a lot over the past decade, and far from being morbid, it's been some of the most fruitful work I've done. I am more inclined toward gratitude than I ever was as a younger man. I don't feel this way at all times, but I'm more appreciative of small moments in life to which I was oblivious in the past. And even as I still strive to remain fit and active, I'm more accepting of the limitations and ignominies that inevitably accompany aging, which also come with some surprising benefits: As I wrote recently, "Today I'm weaker, more frail, slower to heal. I'm also wiser, kinder, braver. It's not lost on me that as my animal self has deteriorated I've become a much better human being." To be sure, I can also be selfish, petty and fearful--but progress has been made. [5,6,7]

My most recent reflections have been prompted not only by the anniversaries of Rich and Roanak's deaths, but also by the realization that I turn 53 later this year, and given a projected life expectancy of roughly 79, it's safe to say that I've officially entered the final third of my life.

This is sobering in some unexpected ways. I have a heightened awareness that this existence is ending for me, and even if I really do have several decades remaining--and I might not--I am far closer to that ending than I am to my beginning. I find myself considering how I spend my time--and with whom--and the image of a candle burning down readily comes to mind. Instead of adding items to a "bucket list," I feel motivated to let things go, to devote less and less time to activities I find unrewarding, and to focus my energy on the people and experiences I find most meaningful.

I'm reminded of a line I heard 20 years ago in a class taught by Joel Peterson, one of my favorite professors in business school: "Show me your calendar, and I'll show you what you value." [8] I'm also reminded of a recent essay by my colleague Dan Oestreich, a longtime source of inspiration:

If it's not a clear yes, it's a no. The phrase tests our clarity and commitment...

[While considering a project] I dithered and the phrase came back to me. It was clear this project was not for me.

The real question, of course, is what’s behind the dithering. And there, I believe, calling up the phrase can help us identify where our sensitivities really are. As in, what’s really going on here? Will I disappoint someone else? Will I create an awkward moment? Will I violate my self-image in some way? Will I show my true colors, the ones I have trouble admitting to myself? [9]

This heightened awareness of my mortality, of the finite number of dates in my calendar, is also spurring me to clarify my values, the principles that have guided my choices. Increasingly, these values are implicated not only in large-scale decisions, but also in small ones: What will I do today? What will I do tomorrow? What should I say "yes" to? What should I say "no" to?

This will invariably lead to the difficulties Dan raises above--disappointing people, creating awkwardness, violating my self-image, showing my true colors. And even as I've prioritized setting healthy boundaries in my work and life, I'm well aware of times that I continue to shy away from these difficulties--but such reticence seems hard to justify, even absurd, as I consider the candle burning down.

I don't intend to simply ignore my commitments and follow my whims, to be sure. But clarity on my values is proving helpful as I seek to distinguish between true commitments and perceived obligations. If it's not a clear yes, it's a no. As the late psychologist Christopher Peterson once wrote,

Everyday life of course poses demands, and I am not saying that we should ignore those we do not like. I am simply saying--to myself, if no one else--to keep the bigger picture in mind. Things not worth doing are not worth doing obsessively. There must be an ancient Buddhist aphorism that makes my point profoundly, but I'll just say it bluntly, in plain 21st-century Americanese: Don't sweat the small stuff; and most of it is small stuff.

Days are long. Life is short. Live it well. [10]

Thanks to Joel Peterson, Dan Oestreich, and the late Christopher Peterson.

Footnotes

[1] "Fear of Death" (Gregory Zilboorg, Psychoanalytic Quarterly, 12, 465–475, 1943)

[2] Richard Wright, RIP (2010)

[3] Journeys, Connections and Learning (Goodbye, Roanak) (2010)

[4] Viktor Frankl on Love, Suffering and the Meaning of Life (2010)

[5] Gratitude Checklist (2018)

[6] Gualala (On Mortality and Gratitude) (2017)

[7] Time and Tradition (2019)

[8] Show Me Your Calendar, and I'll Show You What You Value (2016)

[9] If It's Not a Clear Yes, It's a No (Dan Oestreich, 2020)

[10] Pursuing the Good Life: 100 Reflections on Positive Psychology, page 290 (Christopher Peterson, 2012)