I sat quietly, thinking and observing, as my coworkers discussed the “worst ways to die.”
“Being hit in the face with flying plastic balls off of a redneck’s pickup truck!” my coworker screeched. “That would be the worst way to die.”
“No, no! From a blood clot because you taped a zucchini to your leg,” another rallied.
That would be an extraordinary and strange way to die, but not the worst. To me, the worst way to die would be of old age, suffering in a nursing home after all of your friends and loved ones have gone. Then again, I’m not afraid of death, not in the slightest.
Yes, you read the correctly—I’m not afraid of death. I’ve came close to death multiple times in my life. Yet, I’m still here, writing this and telling you that I’m not afraid of death.
For starters, I’m Buddhist and I believe firmly in reincarnation. I know that when I “die,” some part of me will live on.
I’m not afraid of dying, but that doesn’t mean I’m fearless.
I’m afraid of living like I’m already dead.
I’m afraid of living the same year over and over again for 80 years and calling it a life.
I’m afraid of making mistakes and wasting my life.
I’m afraid of my life being too routine.
I’m afraid of not living.
It would be a lie to say my life isn’t a bit routine. Get up, workout, shower, get dressed, go to work, do work, come home, eat food, write things, read things, sleep. repeat.
That scares me.
I don’t want to fall into a trap of a routine bland life. I don’t want to settle and just do enough to stay alive and live another day. What is the fun in that?
I want to hike all the mountains; maybe not all of them, but most of them. I want to kayak through mangroves and flat prairie lands, through mountain streams and the creek that flows through my parents yard. I want to fall in love and love boldly. I want to travel to new countries and learn new things.
I want to backpack into the middle of nowhere with the love of my life, sit around the fire we made and talk about the wonderful life we have built. I want to soak in the hot springs. I want to talk about life and death, aliens and spirit guides, love and pain but never the weather.
I want to read poetry and write all day about the things that please me and things that annoy me.
So no, I’m not afraid of dying.
I’m afraid I’ll never find the one or my body won’t be able to carry me to all the places my soul wants to go.
I’m not afraid of dying, I’m afraid of not living.
Author: Olivia Morrigan
Apprentice Editor: Alexandra Birrell / Editor: Travis May
Image: Flickr /Alyssa L Miller