A personal view
All you that do this place pass bye
Remember death for you must die
As you are now so then was I
And as I am, so that you be.
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—Thomas Gooding's gravestone in Norwich Cathedral
Thomas Gooding had been a mason in life and probably worked on the cathedral in which he is now inhumed, buried upright to facilitate his easy resurrection. His epitaph is a reminder to all who pass that life is to be lived. Accepting that death exists should not be a morbid thought or philosophy, but an inspiration to live one's life to the fullest.
This concept surrounding death has been familiar to me since I was about seven years old. A near neighbour died, and my parents had a conversation with me about what it all meant. Death to my parents wasn't scary; they were truly Christians and believed that the good people would find favour with God and go to heaven. Sunday School teachings backed this up for me, so I wasn't afraid either. What did happen was I became aware of my own mortality. Each tumble from my bike, each crossing of the road, all hammered home my frailty. WHen a schoolmate was it by a car, it reinforced for me that one day my number would be up and I'd die too. It is fair to say that whilst the prospect did haunt me for a while, I was never really afraid, other than feeling that there were future experiences and adventures that I'd miss out on.
I decided to live in the moment, enjoy every breath and step, seeking to extract as much as possible from every experience, hoping that it would help me grow and develop. My curiosity was unbounded. I read everything within reach, asked questions of my parents and teachers, cast my net wide. At the age of seven, my parents gave me a seven-volume encyclopedia, The Book of Knowledge, and I would stretch out on the floor just turning pages and soaking up everything I could. Even now, sixty years on I can still close my eyes and see the pages of words and pictures that piqued my interest and added not just to my knowledge, but enhanced my desire for even more. Seizing the day became such a habit that I ceased fearing death itself.
This was amplified as I grew up, and by the time I moved to Norwich and saw Thomas Gooding's grave in Norwich cathedral, I had no fear of death and a carpe diem philosophy. Reading this gravestone punched home the lesson even more. I had learned to enjoy life without becoming a hedonist, never forgetting to touch grass, hug trees and enjoy each sunrise and sunset. (By the bye, if you want to see the grave image, it's here.
I hear many people talking about "living their best lives", but honestly don't see may people doing it, sharing it. And the sharing is enjoyable too. It's one of the reasons I write here, and plan to continue. Valar Morghulis ("all men must die", but don't fear death; embrace life and share it, because on the other hand there's Valar Dohaeris ("all men must serve"), be that ourselves or others.
My own recent brush with death has amplified this. There's nothing like having a stroke to recognise that life is short, and it's with renewed vigour that I climbed out of my sickbed and dived back into gaining and sharing knowledge and philosophy with those I love, and reminding them, like Gooding before me, that all must one day die. Someone recently bought me a memento mori challenge coin (image on my homenode!) and I have added a valar morghulis coin to my Amazon wish list. Doubtless both will become part of my every day carry. P.S. Many thanks to Ducthess for the coin!
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