Remember when you were a kid and wishing time would go faster was normal? I remember wishing an hour would pass so I could get out of class, or wishing the minutes would hurry so my cross-country race was over, or wishing the years would fly by so I could buy a beer.
Well, most of us aren't wishing time would go faster, right? We have a finite amount of time left on earth. So why are we wasting it?
photo credit: Kara Allyson (cc)
Instead of wasting our precious time with things that don't matter, why aren't we writing? Let's make a pact to use our time wisely, and to help get you there, think about the following questions:
What If This Was Your Last Day On Earth?
If I told you today was your very last day on earth and that the only thing you could do was write, what would you write about?
Would it be a list of your favorite memories, or a letter to your best friend?
Would you write something funny, or something introspective?
What's The One Thing?
If I said you could only write about the one thing that had most touched your life, what would that be?
Would you write about your first visit to the beach, or the friend who helped you through a hard time?
Would you write about your third grade English teacher, or the aunt who never judged?
Who Would You Write For?
If I told you that you can only write to one audience. Who or what would that be?
Would you write to the campers you taught every summer, or your teammates on your high school football team?
Would you write for your friends, or for your enemies?
We Should Consider This The Last Day
If you're reading this you're probably in a part of the world that free speech is accepted. You are blessed. It's a gift that we have the ability to write whatever we want, to touch the lives of others with a string of words. Why don't we use that gift as it was intended?
Let's stop worrying about the 70,000 words to go, and start living in the moment.
Let's put ourselves out there and stop worrying about what other people will say.
Let's stop getting in our own way.
The next time you get stuck, when your fingers stop, when the creativity comes to a screeching halt, pretend like it's your last day, like the only thing you need to be worried about is the joy of writing. Because really, isn't that the point?
What's Stopping You From Writing Like It's Your Last Day On Earth?
PRACTICE
For the next fifteen minutes, write something that you think will make people happy.
Post your practice in the comments section below and please provide feedback for your peers.
One thing I think would have made my life a lot happier is if I’d had the courage to live my life the way I was wired to live it. Here’s my practice and I hope it makes someone out there make a decision for happiness and authenticity:
A long time ago my therapist told me that the reason I was having problems
was that I was an eccentric trying to be like everybody else. He said that I
couldn’t really be happy until I was willing to embrace who I was and became
truly my authentic self. Wow! What a concept. I read a quote recently by e.e.
cummings, “It takes courage to grow up and be who you really are.” Such true
words.
Who are you really? Are you the person who loves to daydream and think about what the world would look like if it were perfect? Do you sometimes leave notes in people’s mailboxes letting them know that their yard is so beautiful it just brightens you day every time you pass by? Are you the type of person who has to take tissues with you to the symphony because chances are you are going to cry at the magnificence of the music? Do you like to sit down with crayons and just draw for the sake of it, even though you may be getting a retirement check next month? Who are you really? Who are you when you take the mask off?
Long ago I saw a Twilight Zone episode where the people in the old folks home became children and had a chance to run and play Kick the Can and other fun childhood games of bygone days. I was a young adult then and pictured my grandmother having that opportunity. Now I’m a grandmother and rather stiff in the joints, but I relish playing with my grandson. When he was little we used to go outside at night with flashlights, and turning them on and off we fought aliens. As he got older I learned how to play Dragonball Z video games. Now he’s a teenager and I’m not sure what I’ll be ready for in the coming years.
It’s taken me more than half my lifetime to begin to embrace my authentic self. At this late date, I’m learning to like who I *really* am. She doesn’t fit in with the “normal” world.
She is eccentric but she is really a wonderful person, playful, funny and forever optimistic. I have to acknowledge that. I’m proud of her for finally realizing, before she is dead and gone, that she has a right to be here and enjoy the world her way. I’m especially proud of her for breaking through my barriers and finally taking up the mantle of *writer*. It’s been a long time coming.
There is a saying on a gravestone up on Boothill somewhere
in the desert of Tombstone, Arizona – Be what you is, cause if you be what you ain’t,
you ain’t what is you is. Don’t wait any longer. Be who you is!
I love this, thanks for sharing.
Hi Lisa, Thanks!
Crikey Susan, this sounds like someone else writing my life.
This is a lovely sharing, and likely one that many creatives would resonate with. 😉
Thanks Dawn
Thanks Dawn. I’m still working on being the true “me” and my life is already way more than half over! Hopefully you will be better at being your true self than I’ve been!
This is it, This is the end. My last day on earth. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet again in wherever comes next, but nothing’s for sure. Oh, it’s been a wonderful time. Brilliant really. Iguess I wasn’t appreciative enough of what i had, always with my head low and a frown on my face.
Now i realise i just needed the inevitability of imminent death to take a step back, look behind and actually see how much of a great adventure this life was. I went through dangerous siuations, and fears that would leave the toughest of men quivering. I suffered, i cried and i ranted, but above all, i laughed and i smiled and i felt.
Life is not supposed to be a shiny diamond from the head-start, but rough carbon waited to he heated with joy and love and happines, as well as anger, and sorrow and grief. These emotions shape us, they become us, every single bit of them.
Being happy doesn’t mean you live through a constant state of happiness, but that the happy moments far outweight the painful ones.
So if you’re feeling as though the world is falling on your head, just relax, take a deep breath and look back. Remember that sorrow and grief, but also remember how you didn’t let those feelings win you, how you stood strong and held on. How sunshine always ended up reaching the darkest of corners.
It’s time to go now, but looking back, I can see how fantastic my life was. Absolutely fantastic.
Awesome. Sounds like life to me 🙂
“Being happy doesn’t mean you live through a constant state of happiness,
but that the happy moments far outweight the painful ones.”
Thanks for sharing, Juan!
Thank you for replying!
So true!
Minor edits: “nothing’s for sure” — would sound better as “nothing is certain.” This means the same but is more commonly used.
“You didn’t let those feelings win you…” Would be better “you didn’t let those feelings beat you” or “defeat you.”
Good thought that “life isn’t supposed to be a shiny diamond” right from the start. I’m afraid people in our society tend to feel that life OWES them good times. Years ago people understood that we have to work for what we get.
I kinda meant win you literally. Like you resort to them so much they actually become you. So they really win you, youre theirs. I guess its not that clear, and to be honest, im not even sure its grammatically correct.
Nice reflective piece.
I posted a practice here, but the comments are being funky and now it’s gone. Does anyone see it? If not, I’ll repost. Thanks!
Everyone needs to come face to face with their own mortality at least once. It’s good for the soul.
The first time I faced mine I was only twenty-seven years old. I’d found this lump in my breast, about the size of – and just as hard as – a walnut. No pain, no swelling. I made an appointment with my doctor, hoping to hear him say, “False alarm.”
As I waited to see him it hit home to me that life, even if it’s great and going full-tilt, can come to a sudden halt. However much you’ve filled your future with great plans and dreams, one awful word can blow it away — without even being said. I was going to die.
The doctor, when I saw him, did mutter something about “probably nothing to worry about; probably a cyst,” but he didn’t seem very confident, nor did he waste time. I saw him on a Thursday, saw the surgeon on Tuesday, and was booked for surgery Thursday morning. Bang, bang, bang.
My husband drove me to the hospital, where the admitting nurse shoved a consent form at me and I read it. They were going to put me under and take out the lump. They’d do a quick biopsy and if it was benign they’d sew me up again; if it was cancer they’d go on to do a full mastectomy. I would find out when I woke up what they’d decided.
Signing that form, giving that blanket permission, was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.
My latest meeting with my mortality came a year ago. I’d been feeling so dragged out; finally I decided that I needed to visit the doctor. Could it be MS or FM or CFS or another of those frightful initials? He sent me to part with a few vials of blood and the next day I got a call from his office. “The doctor wants to see you — as soon as possible.”
So I sat in his office and he told me, “Your white blood cell count is abnormally high.” Alarm bells rang. Cancer? Not necessarily, but I knew this indicated my body was fighting SOME-thing. He confirmed that. Among other things he mentioned leukemia, but I brushed that thought aside. I knew I wasn’t that sick.
He hunted for one test result and couldn’t find it. Called the girls at the desk and they couldn’t find it. Well, as soon as he did get that result, he’d call me. I was eating lunch with my daughter when his call came. “I’ve found that result and I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, but it is leukemia.”
How could it be? I wasn’t that sick! At this point all I knew about leukemia was that it’s fatal. In a few months – maybe a year. I wanted to ask him , “How much time do I have left?” but I couldn’t. I was too shocked to ask him anything.
I’ve learned that you can survive breast cancer. I’ve learned that not all types of leukemia are fatal. I’ve also learned that someday the clock will stop for real. That you can’t keep saying “Someday I’ll….” I’ve seen dear ones gone in an instant; I’ve been shown that Eternity is only one missed heartbeat away.
Life teaches us some hard lessons, but in the end they accomplish something that happy days never will. Every morning when I wake up and get out of bed I thank God for a new day. That I’m able to stand on my own two feet and enjoy it. I may be able to do only a little, but I want to do what little I can, while I can.
Christine, I am stunned! Thank you, thank you, so much for sharing your heart so honestly through your writing. I know how challenging it can be to write about “the tough stuff,” and share it with others. You are such a graceful and inspiring writer.
Thank you! Glad you found it inspiring. It’s the “tough stuff” that makes us realize life is worth enjoying. (Seeing as the alternative isn’t appealing. 😉 )
Thank you so much for sharing, Christine.
My favorite line: “That you can’t keep saying “Someday I’ll….”
So true…
I wish I could tell you that I never think those words anymore, but, alas…!
I agree I feel the same
Exactly, Lisa. We need to just focus on that, rather than worrying about if our writing is good enough, etc.
Yes, never heard truer words.
I am still alive, I thought as I watched the golden-green sunrise and then I remembered that this is my last day in this body, on this sphere, in this solar system. I had
already panicked. I did that all day yesterday and was totally exhausted by
nightfall and I had not gained an extra day as far as I could determine. I slept
as peaceful as I have ever slept I suppose due to my exhausted state. Today would have to be different, but what would I do?
I suppose that I could write all day, as certainly a full day would be enough time to write a good short story – or even a bad short story. If I wrote all day, would anybody read
my short story since I might not have time to publish and even if I could
self-publish, would I have enough time to promote the story. So many questions
and so little time! If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make noise?
No. I will not write. I have enjoyed my short, economically unsuccessful, curious, weird and wonderful career as a writer, but I think now is the time to stop and just be. Besides, I
really don’t know the exact ………..
Like this ending! Probably the choice we’d all make if we really knew it was our last day.
Thanks for the feed back
Ha! I guess you were writing just before midnight 🙂
Thanks for sharing, Luther.
I don’t see much poetry on here, but I figured I’d post this anyway. It’s a piece I wrote last year for my best friend. It’s called “Remember”.
Remember a day
When the whole world seemed green and bright
When the sun beat down on the hill and the air
shimmered with heat
When the sky was blue and the park full of flowers and
the air full of dragonflies
Remember a day when our friends ran and laughed and fell
down in the grass
And your dress flew behind you and your hair bounced on
your shoulder as you turned to look at me
When you laughed at the stupid things I said
Remember a day when I reached for your hand and held it
tightly
When we smiled at each other, there on the hill, in the
park, under the sun
When there was nothing on my mind but right then and
there
And nothing in my heart but love for you
Years from now, when I am slipping away from you
And you find you cannot recall anymore
The color of my eyes or the things we talked about
Please hold on to that day
And remember me as I was then
Beautiful! Thanks for sharing!
This reminds me of one of the best days of my life. A simple afternoon spent with my new little family! Decades have gone by, but that afternoon in the sunshine on the hill in front of the cathedral will stay in my heart forever! Thanks for your post!
“When there was nothing on my mind but right then and
there.”
Beautiful.
Thanks for sharing, EE!
Lovely. And very touching.
Dawn
Thank you for taking the time to read & respond. 🙂
So true! 🙂
Thanks, Joy. Happy writing.
Would love to visit it. Very interesting article!
Nice glimpse of a sad scene. I had a twelve-year old niece go through cancer so this brings back a few memories. You didn’t say how old Sam is; could you work that in? You bought her a teddy bear, yet she says you’re growing up too fast, which makes me think she’s a bit older.
I’m so sorry about your niece and hope she’s doing well! My dad had some surgrey last year that was a life saver so I know how you feel. Yes I do need to work her age but she’s about thirteen.
Dear Life,
You are ending. You are ending, when I have just gotten to know you, when I have just left the undisturbed and innocent cradle of my childhood. You are ending, ending just now, when I am beginning to understand the preciousness of time, when I am beginning to explore the limits of possibility, my limits, your limits.
You are ending and I have to accept. You are ending and I have to cope.
You are ending and I have to end with you.
I wish I had known how selfish you could be, wish I had known how sudden you could disappear. But above everything, I wish I could turn every minute today, into a million minutes and that I could stretch this day by a billion times.
You, life, are too short to end and I, your protagonist, am too young to die.
I know that this letter won’t change anything, but I have to leave something behind, even if it’s just a
simple piece of writing, a thin piece of paper, that will eventually fade and decay just like my body. The truth, is, I don’t want to be blown out like a candle, I refuse to be swept away that easily, I refuse to become a pile of ashes, that will be gone after a light breeze.
Maybe I’m foolish to think that I can outlive you, that I can outlive life itself. But shouldn’t this seemingly impossible task be our strive? Shouldn’t we be creating, and dreaming and living the unthinkable?
And then again, if we don’t, what do we become? Do we become nothing? Can we live without crafting and still count as a craft, as something unique ourselves?
I say yes life, I say yes. It’s enough to breath, it’s enough to enjoy, it’s enough to open our eyes to dawn and sunset and to know that our heart has not stopped beating.
We can not be reduced to our achievements, for they are but a part of us. They are paintings adorning a wall and without the painter they wouldn’t exist.
People are more than just their own life. They are memories, they are photographs, they are stories, words, emotions.
And I, dear life, am this letter too. Take my body away, take my future away, but beware that I will always have my past, beware that you can never wipe out my story.
Someone out there knows: She has lived.
Someone out there griefs: She has died.
My journey continues, there must be something after you, there must be an after life.
“Shouldn’t we be creating, and dreaming and living the unthinkable?”
Exactly!
Thanks for sharing, Lisa!
I enjoyed this Lisa.
It reads like a lament.
A query to the possibility of never really leaving.
A suggestion that a life lived, no matter how or what it does, leaves an imprint on the lives that follow: stories, photographs, paintings, words, emotions.
Perhaps a couple of typos to consider. Towards the end do you mean ‘beware’ or ‘be aware’. And ‘grieves’ rather than ‘griefs’.
Thanks for sharing
Dawn
Thank you Dawn! Also for your suggestions. I’m not native and sometimes I’m unsure about which words to use:).
This is an interesting topic.
—–OoO—–
I would write a letter to my family, my mother, father and my wife. They are people that are always beside me in every cases. They are inspiration to me to live and work. I really feel luck to have them in my life.
Besides that, I will also write something to my close friend. He works with me in our company.
Thanks for sharing, zeus!
Now go write those letters 🙂
I read all the posts, but this is the one I expanded immediately and couldn’t stop reading. I love the child’s point of view and perspective on life. Great capturing the conflict of what the writer wants and the cruelty of children, and observing what the others are feeling at the same time. The last line left me confused however. I feel certain Markus drew some conclusions about what just happened, but I can’t tell what they are from the final sentence. It may be that he doesn’t have to worry about getting invited back, but that is unclear to me. Or maybe I am supposed to be confused just as he is.
Thanks sdukett! And I totally agree with you about the last line. After rereading, it feels unfinished. I had so much fun writing it, that I plan to blow it out into a short story. Hopefully I’ll tackle that issue and it will feel complete 🙂
In ten minutes the bomb is gonna come. I will be knocked out of existence like a fly being struck in someones hand.
Some notes to take from my life: People don’t change. We are changed, but there is always weakness staring us in the face in the most challenging moments. And even when you overcome something one time there will probably be another challenge later that will show us how weak we are.
People do what they have to to remain in their comfort level.
Spiritual truths are part reality and part fantasy, and telling which is which is pretty much impossible.
People are so optimistic, no matter how people are knocked down people are always trying to get themselves back up. It’s almost heart breaking. When I think of how much suffering people have endured overall time and in all places, it is unbelievable that more people haven’t shut down.
That if you can’t cry at a sad movie or a sad event part of your heart is locked up somewhere. I rarely cry.
The earth is floating in outer space right now, majestically in outer space. It too continues moving, and maybe that is not always easy for it either.
In these last minutes I think of my ancestors, and want before I die to say a little prayer for those that have come before. And my ancestor, a ghost in the other worlds, will hear my prayers and they will pray for me, and I will matter to someone somewhere.
I take a drink of alcohal. Drugs the worlds numbing agents, along with so many others, many musics, movies, relationships, are simply drugs to make the days go by a little easier. And I embrace this drink, hearing my fathers chuckle in the back of my mind as he would say I will think of death when I die till then lest not let the drink run dry, and my scowl of reproach as he toasted his drink, a droplet spilling and falling out. And in space a droplet will continue to float forever. Likewise these memories are droplets in my soul. I want to rub them out sometimes because so many of them don’t make any sense any more. It has all become so ridiculous that I can’t stand it anymore. I laugh, swish the burning liquid and force myself to swallow it.
I guess that is the last thing I have learned. No matter how I have loved my family enjoyed them, was uplifted by them, in the end I am alone and they are alone. Even if I spent every waking second next to them. We are separate and yet so important to each other. Like a curse and a gift. A curse because people were never too fond of me, and I had wished that that hadn’t mattered. I tried hard to make it not matter. I wanted to lock it all out. And my heart is somewhere in a chest somewhere thousands of feet under in the ocean. Like the squid man in Pirates of the Caribean, Dead Man’s Chest. And I am not sure if I want to have to find it again, and go through all the pain that is bound to go with it or let it be, and find a party get another high while life is moving and I’m still alive.
Just then I hear a boom. And my life flashes over my eyes. And I see a young woman, scared and feeling so alone, pregnant with me in her. She is so scared and her mother is telling her, “You need to have an abortion, there is no way you are mentally well enough to take care of a child. And she says, “No mom, I think I want to keep her.”
And then there was nothing. A fly under a human hand. And then there was nothing.
Where I live it’s now autumn. As the giant fig tree beside my home sheds the last of her giant leaves and the daylight begins to shrink I am always reminded of the need to shed all and be bare and rested in winter. The following words just gurgled up as I sat on the verandah late this afternoon. A whimsical metaphoric farewell; if this were to be my last day of life…
“I want to ride my steely grey mare, bare-back and naked in the wind. I want to feel autumn bite me pink and let its song sting me so deep that I will never forget it’s promise of a coming winter solstice.”
“Will you ride alone or can I be at your flank commanding the judging crowds that they too bare all for one small part of this day. I can call to them the tale of your life cut short, that they may bare witness to your final ride. That they may see the final wish of a woman that has suckled and reared life birthed from her own flesh. I can call to them and beckon that they too release their many cloaks and reveal their skin to the sweetness of this season that sheds it’s own jewels before darker months of rest. Sweet mother let me be your voice.”
“My daughter your generous spirit is a pleasure to behold. Alas this is a ride that I must do alone. I ask only that you stand with the world and see that word spreads among the masses that ‘all’ is never seen beneath clothes layered as many faces. That they may see all of this woman on her waning Autumn day. For tomorrow I will be galloping in the winter darkness that lurks behind this masquerade. And, naked upon my trusty mare, I will be seeking another light.”
“Mother I am your daughter. I will grieve naked through this winter. Come spring I will wake up and I will serve you well. That you may see my light from the winter of your dark night and, in memory, may it help you to find your way. And, when riding naked upon the bare back of my mare, I will look to the stars above and trust you are eternal, and as my guide, forever there.”
Mother smiled and untied her cloak of decades. It fell heavy to the ground. And with her hands full of silvery mane she sat tall upon her faithful mare; buttocks, breasts and belly, full, round and proud.
“I am now ready for the wind,” she smiled and turned her head toward the west. Autumn sang across the landscape and stung her with his breath.
Yes. Yes. Great statement!
Each voice unique. Artful words ache for action. So write Marcy, write. And share the magic. Make a difference.
Dawn
Thanks, Dawn. We must WRITE in order to feel RIGHT! 🙂
Nice sharing Tammy. This has the makings of a very nice garden story.
Dawn
Nice sharing Lisa. It’s a heartfelt reflective piece that could be a timely reminder to many of us that still have our parents around to cherish.
Thanks
Dawn
Thank you
All I could think of doing on my last day on earth is writing to my son. He is the most precious part of my soul.
Dearest Ezra,
Open your eyes love. Do you see how bright the sun shines on the new dew of the morning? Do you see the small hills of water as it courses over creek rocks? Do you see the way the wind sweeps the leaves into a beautiful tangled dance? Look at the mountains. Let their presence consume you and remind you of how small you are. When your problems feel as massive and powerful as those mountains; think about your insignificance and then believe the absurd truth that in the expanse of this world, the universe this earth rests in, you are seen. You are adored from heaven.
Open your ears son. Listen to the sound of your heart beating steadily inside the protection of your ribs. Listen to the rhythm of your breathing as it expands your chest. Listen to the sound of your life. You are alive for today in this moment, in this second. Do important things, do meaningless things. Listen to the rain, your favorite song, the laughter of the woman you love. Hear the “I love you”, hear the “you matter”.
Open your mind. Cut away the ropes that have your imagination bound. Set it free. Let it take you on unbelievable adventures. Embrace it as a lifelong friend and trust it to help you create; anything. Just create and share that creation with the world. Don’t imprison it or keep it hidden. Hold up a shield against negativity because once it infects the mind it spreads like a disease to the rest of the body. Consume positive thoughts like they are a feast for your soul.
Open your heart Ezra. Feel the stabbing pain of heartache. Don’t try to cover it up with a band aid. Let it bleed, let it breathe, let it heal. Girls like scars anyway. Don’t hoard your love. Give of it freely to the ones that surround you every day. Be kind. Be thoughtful. Be love. Never let fear get its paralyzing grip on your heart. Resist it. Fight it. Conquer it. There is no fear in love. Live your life in absolute, crazy, unreasonable, persistent love. Be genuine in your faith. Allow Jesus to introduce Himself to you as he desires to be known. He always has been and always will be worthy of reigning as king of your heart and life. Remember to be intentional in knowing Him and thanking him for every second you’re alive and record it on your heart that He is enough.
Don’t focus on having an incredible life. Save up your focus and energy and dedicate it to creating life altering moments because that’s all you’re promised. This moment is all you’ve got. It’s all I’ve got.
We all knew this day would come … eventually. My request is, please don’t be sad. If you know me, you know I hate sadness.
For the past thirty years I have poured my heart and soul,
and bank account, into each of you. I’ve
always wanted the best for you – to grow up, to learn to be self sufficient, to
find your true selves. I can honestly
say, I’m happy that I was able to see each of you has made it. Maybe not quite reached your full potential,
but you’re on the right track.
Trust me when I tell you, I have only one regret – my damn
manuscript didn’t get finished J. But in the
grand scheme of it all, it’s my own fault.
I dilly dallied and procrastinated.
I ask you each to do me one final favor – one huge
favor. Please find the strength to help
your Dad get through this. I know I’m
asking a lot, but I also know each of you is capable of being the strength he
needs. Make sure he takes his medicine and
make sure he doesn’t just give up. He’ll
need each of you more than he will admit.
I love you all and will miss you so much. Continue to make me proud.
Hope Remains
Hope springs eternal,
It’s true.
There’s light,
In the darkness.
When all seems lost,
Hope remains.
When all seems bright,
Hope flares.
Nothing is dead,
Truly,
Because hope still remains.
The end,
Is not the end.
Light flourishes,
In the darkness.
Shadows,
Chased away by hope.
Darkness,
Breeds in fear.
Hope,
The torch of light.
Hope,
Vanquishes all foes.
Nothing is dead,
Truly,
Because hope still remains.
This is a very inspiring article! I am definitely going to develop this mindset.