Oliver Sacks On Life, Towards the End

When I read the title of Oliver Sack's essay in the The New York Times a few weeks ago, I thought I would only be saddened to read what he would say about being terminally ill. 

Instead, I read what amounted to a celebration of the time remaining to him and gratitude for the time he has left. His illness, like all mortal illness, has cast focus on the really important things we should pay attention to, but largely forget about unless we are very wise. I wish these important things were something all of us could keep in mind every day.

Particularly in the work that I do, helping people unfetter themselves from those stacks of things that have gathered around them, clogging the purpose of any room or furniture, clogging the mind and mood. My hope is that unloading the extra stuff will free more time for them to live, to enjoy their time at home or at work and with friends or family. 

I know that's the chief reason I keep my own spaces clear. It's not some compulsion to be tidy it's a means to an end, an end full of living and writing and silliness and enjoyment of the people who matter -  that is the central idea I took from Oliver Sack's essay on life, toward the end.

Remaining hopeful and having ideas for how he plans to spend the precious time is what kept me from feeling terrible that he is ill and soon will no longer tell the stories he tells so well.