Stoic Meditation #1 - Memento Mori

Time will end all my troubles, but I don't always approve of Time's methods.

Remember how long you've been putting this off, how many extensions the gods gave you, and you didn’t use them. At some point you have to recognize what world it is that you belong to; what power rules it and from what source you spring; that there is a limit to the time assigned you, and if you don’t use it to free yourself it will be gone and will never return.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 2.4

I've been fortunate in that I've had only one serious scare while driving. I was on the way back from a day of snowshoeing up around Empire, Colorado. It was snowing heavily as I slowly made my way down I-70 in my trusty 4x4 pickup. If you've ever driven through the Rockies on I-70 - good weather or bad - than you know how steep the grades can be. And they go for miles.

Also independent of the weather, after drivers have come down off the hill they have an odd tendency to give it the gas. So much so there is a high-revenue curve where the state patrol likes to set up a speed trap with multiple cars and motorcycles. It was at this point in the road where a small Chevy something-or-other lost control trying to pass me.

A super lucky day for me as the Chevy's front bumper hit my back tire. Given the slick conditions, the back of my truck basically bounced off the Chevy's now crunched bumper and caused my truck to complete a 360 degree flat spin across two icy lanes of traffic toward the shoulder. Heading in the right direction and still moving about 30 MPH, I quickly made it safely off the road. All this without either of us slamming into any of the other cars on the road. There was almost no damage to my truck. Lucky.

The proverbial brush with serious injury or death. The kind of event that makes everyone - however briefly - contemplate what's important. In this respect, I was no different. In another respect, I am different.

I've spent more time than most with people who are physically handicapped, chronically or terminally ill, or elderly as they've approached the end of their lives. My dad was wheelchair bound due to polio. After high school and throughout most of my college years, I worked in various nursing homes and a spinal injury rehab hospital as an orderly/attendant. Much of this was the night shift while attending classes during the day. I've listened to many stories of regret over poor decisions and sorrow at having been forgotten by family. And I've been witness to the last moments of someone's life, including my first wife's death following a 10 year battle with cancer.

These experiences, and many others, have given me pause to think about life and death quite a bit over the years. I know all too well how fragile our bodies and, by extension, our lives are. I also know how short they are. Far from being a morbid dwelling on the human condition, these reflections have served as compelling motivation to overcome my limitations while on a personal quest for purpose and meaning. And along the way, seeking to help my fellow travelers to do the same.

The moments of having survived an intense experience are dramatic instances of the gods granting an extension to our ambivalence toward life's most precious resource: Time. They are loud and brilliant explosions, front and center, that hopefully serve to remind us how long we've been putting off what's important. Or that we have yet to discover what's important. But how many lesser reminders have we missed? How many moments of frustration, anger, sadness, boredom, or any other uncomfortable emotional state have we experienced that could very well be prompting us to move in a different direction?

Don't be fooled, fellow truckers. If you're reading this, you're not down The Mountain yet. Slow down, pull over, rest for a bit while catching your breath, and listen to the gods.