Many philosophers have speculated on what would happen if you knew the exact date, time, and cause of your death. Honestly, I can’t see how it will improve the way anyone would lead their life leading up to it from a distance of say, 50 or 60 years, though I suspect they might start being a little more circumspect with their words and deeds as they approached it and the time came closer and closer, it becoming more and more urgent to lead a great, or at least fulfilling, life before leaving.
Why such profound thoughts in the morning? Because when I went to awaken my little one, as usual, she asked for ‘5 more minutes’ and as usual, I conceded (I start the reveille process at 10 minutes to 5, with this in mind: 5 minutes of extra sleep and then, 5 minutes of snuggy-huggies and kisses before picking her up and carrying her to the bathroom), only to have her come up with this thoughtful gem as she sat there chewing on her pre-workout morning banana, ‘Baba bear, why are those extra 5 minutes so much better than the whole night’s sleep?’
I think the above two are connected. What’s your perspective?
P.S: Anyone who has not woken up a groggy kid and lifted and carried them as they clutch you with their arms and legs (like baby monkies do to their mothers ) with their chests and tummies touching you and their warm bodies and soft cheeks enveloping you in love as they rest their chin on your shoulder, has not lived. Also, why do they smell so divine? As we grow, what happens to this touch, this smell, this warmth in our embrace? Or is that too deep a question to ponder on for a Thursday morning?
P.P.S: We are now here at the hilltop and she is hanging with her teammates. The boys and girls who train with Kym are mostly those who seek athletics as a way out of poverty, and while she has won their hearts (she is the youngest, and needless to say, most pampered), they remain sceptical about how long she (or in other words, we) can carry on with this. So, one of her teammates asked me today, ‘When does she go to school?’ and I told him about her homeschooling only to watch his eyes pop with envy. ‘Does she know how lucky she is?’, he asked. I could see in his eyes a life that he could have lived had his parents too come from privilege like Kymaia’s do, and I felt a tinge of sadness that while we may gain a mediocre-to-good sprinter in him as he grows, we may have lost a scientist or historian or writer or pilot or lawyer or doctor in his lack of opportunities. I don’t think I will forget that look in his eyes for some time. No, my friend. She does not know how lucky she is. But yes, we will tell her and make sure she does not forget how much luck was involved in her future successes so she does not become an entitled and arrogant believer in the ‘Just World Hypothesis‘.
