my contribution to class tomorrow

MEMENTO VIVERE

There I was reading along in my book about two improbable people falling in love and trying to make a life together when I read the words “memento vivere”, remember to live. One of the characters was referencing something she had read while visiting Italy. It was barely integral to the story and the character referenced it quickly and in passing, yet my eyes stayed on the words and refused to move on.

Memento vivere. Words to live by. Remember to live. We remember so many things. We remember to pick up the kids after school. We remember to return library books and buy milk when we are at the store. We remember our mother’s birthday and the day our best friend died of cancer. We remember the dog we had that loved to eat watermelon. We remember to grab the umbrella on our way out the door because the paper said it was going to rain. Do we remember to live?

Those two Italian words took my breath away. My haunches clinched on to the chair and I leaned back to contemplate the full circumference of that advice. It clearly was not a literal admonition directed at our physical being. We don’t need to remind ourselves to breathe or swallow. Our bodies instinctively do that for us. Why don’t we instinctively remember to actually live? Our bodies take care of our physical survival, but what about our intellect and soul? What keeps us from instinctively breathing spiritually and intellectually? Why is it so easy to forget to live a life worth living? Why do long periods go by when we forget to live to our fullest, to be our best and to take advantage of each moment?

We say we will. Something bad happens and the first thing we say is “boy oh boy, each minute is precious”. And, then we move on and fill our minds with laundry and shopping lists and wonder who the next American Idol will be. Do we get so involved with the nuts, bolts and distractions of life that we forget to hit the on button and project ourselves into our own lives? Why do we allow ourselves to become buried by the minutia and the mundane? Is it just too awesome a goal and too unfathomable a responsibility to truly live each day as if it were our last? Because it could be, you know. It could be the last minute. The last second. As I write this, I could keel over. Poof and boom it could be all over. And have I remembered to live?

Sometimes. Some days, I really go for the gusto and realize the tremendous gift I have. The gift of life. There are periods where I appreciate the measure of each minute and breathe as much life into it as I can. But, mostly, I suck the air out of life. I forget. The days come. The days go.

I wonder if there is anyone on the planet who really lives by the creed “Memento Vivere”. If anyone does, it’s probably the Dali Lama. Sister Theresa probably did. Nelson Mandela, maybe. Oh, and I’ll bet Albert Einstein did. And, John Lennon, perhaps. So, what clues are there? What kind of person remembers to live? Do I have to be a genius or a saint to memento vivere? If I can’t paint or write music am I doomed to forget to live?

Surely, there must be average Joes and Janes out there who memento vivere. Every day people who don’t take life for granted. They may not have paintings hanging at the Guggenheim or work on world peace or clothe the naked or feed the hungry, but they are not trapped in day in day out survival mode. They remember to buy groceries and wash the car, but they also remember to read poetry and listen to music. They are inspired by the sheer miracle of a daffodil blooming while it snows. They notice when someone else is having a bad day and try to make it better for them. Those Joes and Janes have a million ways they drop in the bucket and make the world a better place. They do it instinctively. They don’t think about it. We all can. We just need to do it until it becomes habit. Imagine a world in which we all memento vivere.