M asked while we were in Lausanne, what our last thoughts would be if we were to die now.
"If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear, for I've never known completeness, like being here."
Yes, I wouldn't fear. I've learned to live for what I want, and I want to live every minute of my life knowing that I will not regret should I die any minute now. I've seen that death is not the opposite of life - it is part of life. I've come to understand the meaning of peace in the mind and soul. I have accomplished what I have set out to do - every step of it. I have looked sorrow in the face and braved it.
Yet if I should live from this moment on I will continue to prepare myself for death. I will practise peace. I will brave loneliness. I will practise optimism and embrace the idea of impermanence. I will work towards giving up alcohol for good.
I have two hesitations: one to choose between materialism and leading a 'meaningful' life; two to choose between temporary happiness and peace of mind. After much deliberation I have started to draft out my plans where I will follow my own conscience in choosing a career. Marriage is like wearing a corset for life. And for that reason, I will follow in the footsteps of Elizabeth I: I will marry myself to my dreams and aspirations. I will practise letting go of such feelings - they disturb the peace I yearn for.
Is it true that the depth of our thoughts is limited by our language capabilities? Oftentimes I feel myself restricted in expressing myself completely and elegantly. I wish I had a better command of my mother tongue. No amount of pondering, my thoughts in English, will bring me what I could expect to achieve so succinctly should I be more fluent in my mother tongue. What use is it to be a jack of all trades in the use of languages than to be a master of one? In this respect my illiteracy must be hampering the development of my mind.
I never liked farewells, especially when a reunion is uncertain. Because of impermanence, he or she whom one is bidding farewell will never be the same again. I am aware at this point that I may sound as if I am contradicting myself. This is not to say that I regret the fact that people change - on the contrary, I appreciate that. But I perfer reunions to farewells, and may that be reflected in a certain poem I've penned. I should frown with contempt at one who has changed for the worse but even more at one who has not changed - at least the former has learnt. Which is why I find it fascinating to observe this change in myself when I look back from time to time.