“Ponder an aneurysm.”

My eighth grade art teacher killed our lunchtime sugar highs when he said it. He went on to explain what an aneurysm was–a burst blood vessel that can strike anyone dead at anytime–as only the most optimistic artist could. An interesting way to say Carpe diem, but it’s true. What does it really mean to ponder an aneurysm? The lesson is simple–and highly lucrative.

In Alta, Calif., 32-year-old Jason Chellew was simply sitting at home on Friday, April 24, when a giant sinkhole opened up in his floor and swallowed him beneath the foundation. Sure, you could blame recent California rainfall and a possible underground mine shaft, but Chellew’s death leads some to think they should not sit at home at night–and others to ponder an aneurysm.

Death can creep up on us at anytime, and we don’t ever think about the unusual ways that we can find ourselves face-to-face with the darkly dressed dude. Writer Sherwood Anderson died of peritonitis after swallowing a toothpick at a cocktail party–that’ll kill your buzz. Attila the Hun died of a nosebleed on his wedding night. Note to self: Pack tissues and an emergency cell phone.

Like something out of the ever-accident-prone plot of Final Destination, Tennessee Williams choked to death on a nose spray bottle cap. On that same note, a helicopter blade decapitated horror filmmaker Michael Findlay. It makes you want to pull a Howard Hughes and start walking around in tissue boxes, but that’s life–or death.

Aeschylus, a Greek dramatist–but what else could you be with a name like that–died when a vulture mistook his bald dome for a stone and dropped a tortoise on it. I thought I was unlucky when birds targeted me with poopage. Aeschylus’ good pal 200 years later, Greek philosopher Chrysippus, died of laughter after seeing a donkey eating figs–a comedy routine so funny it’s outlawed in all 50 states. It’s no donkey show.

No one is safe from an unexpected death. King Bela I of Hungary died when his throne collapsed–think twice before ye sit high and mighty.

Were any of them pondering an aneurysm? Not likely.

Before you rush off to work, class or the couch for a very noteworthy afternoon of sitting, ponder an aneurysm. We never really know when our time will be up, and, depending upon your beliefs, you may never get the chance to live again. You don’t have to live in fear, but instead, embrace the fact that every moment is precious. As Brad Pitt so profoundly states as Achilles in Troy, our lives are made more beautiful and great by the fact that each moment, sight, or sound could our last.

It’s like the age old counselor question that the characters of Office Space ask each other: what would you do if you had a million dollars? Quite often, we get so caught up in our own lives and short-term goals that we forget our desires to see Stonehenge, visit the monks of Tibet, or pray in the Sistine Chapel. Ponder an aneurysm, and these goals can no longer be put off. Procrastinators beware!

Friends have told me that I take Carpe diem too much to heart by living the plenty-of-time-to-sleep-when-I-die lifestyle, but it makes sense when you ponder an aneurysm. Maybe my art teacher practiced a little tough love, but his message was only in our best interest. When you take “ponder an aneurysm” to heart, the phrase has the power to transform you as it did me–from a chattering middle schooler to a conscious dream seeker.

Death’s jokes always have bad comedic timing, so make sure you don’t live on his watch. Start each day by pondering an aneurysm.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Maxie Rains was never fake. Brutal honesty–that was her policy. More than once, she upset a holiday gathering by saying what she was thinking regardless of how it would make others feel.

Walking around her garden in the backyard, Maxie and I would find grub worms among her prized plants and “put their lights out.” Brutal. When she received socks for Christmas, she didn’t feel the need to thank you or pretend they were the best socks she had ever owned; she simply set them aside and nodded to you as if you would get yours later. Brutal. If a visitor she disliked came over to her house, you were going to hear about it as soon as that person left the room or turned their back. Brutal. She kept binoculars on the coffee table right in front of her couch groove to grab when any suspicious or new characters entered the neighborhood. There was no hiding from Maxie. Brutal.

At the same time, Maxie had a softer side. She was like Sears–once you got past the hardware section, you stumbled upon the silk pajamas. She exchanged jokes with her closest friends, collected elephant figurines, and loved anything and everything about nature and animals–except grub worms and slugs. She watched out for her neighbors and bragged about her adopted grandkids–me included. She complimented others when she felt the need and always followed it with her signature, swift wink.

When lung cancer struck her, it was also brutal. Years of smoking caused her to deteriorate quickly, and, by February, doctors could do nothing more for her. In these moments before her death, Maxie became a fragment of her former self–flashes of silk and drill bits.

Despite her reputation for sometimes being bitter and cranky, Maxie inspired close to if not more than fifty people to sparsely fill the chapel at her funeral–sparsely, but she filled it. Even lacking some eloquence, she touched the lives of many. Brutal. She would have liked to be missed by few, but that is not the case.

The day of her funeral, the temperature dropped to below freezing with a miserable drizzle. Brutal. As the pallbearers removed her casket from the funeral home van at the cemetery, the baby carrier in my grandmother’s car, holding my nephew, fell back onto the steering wheel and blared the horn for more than a few seconds.

“Some people get a 21-gun salute,” the preacher said. Brutal. Maxie did always like to be the center of attention.

Nature is brutal and so was Maxie.

Technorati tag: cancer, maxierains, funeral, brutal, death.

(more…)

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!