There are a few minutes left until the clock shall tell me that it’s 4 in the morning and thereby unintentionally imply that I have stayed awake through yet another night. But this night/morning is special. I met Morrie tonight.
It wasn’t until I had read three quarters of the book that I realised that the contents of it weren’t fictitious and that it was all true.
Morrie and Mitch, in 192 pages, condensed and consolidated so many of my thoughts that I have been trying to process for the last couple of years; amplifying the single chant in my being, something I have consciously striven towards for the greater part of the last couple of years – (pardon the Bollywood trope) Follow your heart.
“Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?”
“I am every age, up to my own.”
I convinced myself that my needs were realistic, my greed inconsequential compared to theirs. This was a smokescreen. Morrie made that obvious.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
‘You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.’
I couldn’t bring myself to read or write meaningful words from the time I returned from Nepal. I gave a big piece of myself away to the country and to re-align myself with the world that I had left behind has not been easy. The ‘tension of opposites’ persists.
At such a juncture, ignoring the nagging feeling in my head (which was conceived when I read the back of the book and groaned at the prospect of having to read two hundred pages of self-help under the facade of a story) and trusting the word of the friend who owned the book, I started and finished the book in one night.
You won’t even realise how you cannot put the book down until you do.
May 26, 2017