The man or woman who faces the reality, the inevitability, and the unpredictability of his or her own death enhances the quality of their life, for that person tends to make better choices about how to live. They use their mortality as a measuring stick to keep from wasting time or energy on things that truly do not matter to them.

Any person who has learned to hold his mortality close to his heart knows that today could very well be the last day of his life. The aged and very ill, those who are facing a short road to the end, are forced to accept this because it is in their face, but I believe that it would behoove all of us to use the overhanging shadow of our mortality to better our lives.

I am not special or different from any other citizen of this earth. I am not gifted with the ability to see into my future and know exactly how many days I have to accomplish all that I would like. Like everyone else, I have squandered precious moments, hours, and days that have added up to many, many years because I couldn’t accept the one great truth about my existence–that today could be the last day of my life.

I have lived my life in the same way as the majority of humans running around our planet. I have scurried from one life event to another. I have committed myself to actions that deep down I honestly didn’t want to do, but that I felt obligated to perform because that’s what society, family, or friends expected of me: go to school, college, grad school, work a job, date, marry, buy a house, have children, the list went on and on.

I was guilty of compounding the issue by idling away precious hours on blatant time wasters–just how many reruns of the same episode of my favorite television show could I watch? How many times could I meet the same people at the same bar and rehash the same tired issues?

I never questioned whether the choices I made were the wisest, most fulfilling use of my time because I was sure that I had all the time in the world. I believed that there would always be time to do everything that I wished, that there would always be a tomorrow.

Along the way, life gave me many hints and opportunities to help me lose my sense of immortality.

I ignored them.

When, at sixteen, a freak accident cost a fellow high school student his life, it caused barely a blip in my consciousness. Years later, when my beloved grandfather passed and my best friend’s mother died, I felt sadness but still I made no changes. Mortality did not factor into my life even though I read daily news stories about young people dying from illness or accident or homicide.

Those events made me pause briefly and feel grateful for my continued good health, but they went no deeper than that. Death happened to other people–it wasn’t something that I needed to worry about. I was young and healthy and completely caught up in living my life–caught up in the challenges and petty grievances and soap operas that seem to consume us all. I was caught up with making a living, forging friendships, making a home, caught up in love and work and fun and disappointment and the games that people play with one another. I was immersed in the whole menu of human emotions and activities that ruled my life.

My first serious wake-up call happened on a morning exactly like any other morning. There was no reason to suspect that my life was about to change. I was sitting ten feet away from my roommate who was cleaning his shotgun across the room, something I had done many times before. I was relaxed, paying no attention to him, reading the paper and eating my breakfast. One moment all was quiet and peaceful, in the next moment a blast blew out the wall right beside my head. I dropped the bowl of cereal and looked at my roommate, stunned.

At first I didn’t realize just how close the shotgun pellets had come to ending my life. I turned to look at the wall and not six inches away from where I sat I could see pinpoints of daylight. The lead pellets from the shotgun shell had punctured the wall and blown a piece of the siding off the house. Six inches more to the right and my head would have been pulp.

People’s lives are cut short every day. They end without any warning, without any apology for robbing them of the time to finally get on to the serious business of living, to become the people they have the potential to be. I was one of the lucky ones. The universe took pity on me and offered me a chance to get with the program.

I carried a heightened sense of my mortality around with me for the better part of a year after that experience, but it was too hard to hang on to, too difficult to keep at the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t long before I was immersed in the soap opera of my life again.

Several more years passed before I got a second chance. The life I had so carefully built imploded, forcing me to take a serious look at the choices I had made and how I was living.

I had married for all the wrong reasons, and none of the right ones. The effort and work that it took to maintain that marriage for almost fifteen years took its toll on my health, mental as well as physical.

I worked at a job that gave me no pleasure, not even a sense of satisfaction from accomplishing something that held meaning. Worse, I worked for someone for whom I had lost all respect. I approached each work day filled with tension and I’m sure that my attitude had a negative effect on my coworkers.

I don’t like to make mistakes – no one does. It’s hard to admit to them. For me, the worst part was that I didn’t know how I had created such a mess. All along that journey I thought that I was making good choices, but with my life in tatters, I was forced to look at the train wreck I had left in my wake and do some serious self-evaluation.

I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t like what I found. I took a good look at myself in the mirror and asked, “Is this who I want to be for the rest of my life? What if I die tomorrow?”

Asking myself those two questions was my turning point. I would not spend one more day of my life going forward thinking that sometime in the future, I would change and fix everything. The time had come: I had to change then, that very moment, or risk losing the opportunity, for there was no guarantee I would live to see another day.

I made the leap and took mortality as my advisor.

Those are no longer just words to me, they have become an integral part of who I am. I took the inevitability of my death deep within me and held it up as the yardstick by which I now measure my life. It was a liberating, exhilarating, and life-altering action. I made major changes to the way I live that gave me a sense of freedom and power unlike any I had previously experienced. I started listening to, trusting, and following, my intuition.

I left an unhappy marriage that, as it turned out, neither of us were suited for, thereby freeing both of us. I quit an unsatisfying job that drained me in many ways because it wasn’t a good fit for me. Those two moves created a vacuum in my life which allowed far more interesting, and suitable, situations to step in and fill the voids.

By reminding myself that I could die today, I stopped putting energy into anything that didn’t feel right. I put aside any task or commitment that didn’t resonate deep within me–that included activities that I had once pursued so I would be accepted by people whose opinions I realized were no longer important to me. Finally, because my time here is limited, I stopped putting energy into those people as well. My time has become too precious to waste on anything that does not fulfill me.

To some this may sound selfish, and I agree, it is. I do not however, see anything wrong with this type of selfishness because it means that I am one hundred percent sincere in everything I do, and that I give my best effort to whatever I do. There are no more half-measures in my life. I give my all to my work, to the people I love, to my commitments, and to my responsibilities. In return, I am filled with a deep satisfaction and happiness, and the knowledge that I am living my life well.

It took reaching a miserable, rocky bottom to motivate me to make the drastic changes to my life that I wish I had made years earlier. My fears prevented me from taking any action. I feared what others would think of me. I feared being unemployed. I feared being alone. I feared making more mistakes. I feared the unknown that changes would bring.

Once I took my own mortality as my guide, I found that there was nothing left to fear. I could survive losing a job, or a spouse, or making mistakes. With my mortality as a measuring stick, all of my fears disappeared, for what could be more serious, more final, than the loss of my life? All other losses pale beside that, and that knowledge can give a man the courage to reach for the stars.

Live each day as if it is the only one you have. Embrace your mortality and experience how precious each action, event, and relationship becomes. It is the path to not only reaching your fullest potential, but more important, it is the path to deep and lasting happiness.

A retired wildlife photographer, Noble Lee now farms and writes in the bluff country along the Upper Mississippi River.

instead of a picture, multiplication table adorns my kitchen wall.

I have 8 arms like an octopus reaching in every direction.

Nobody can worry as much as I do.

There is always some stain on my clothes that detergent won’t remove.

I am a mother,

my notebook has dinosaurs drawn on it

the wall of my bedroom a little artist’s exhibition.

Me and my cell phone fall apart too often.

I lose my keys every other day.

I am a mother

and a pediatrician though I never went to medical school.

I play the cook, the nurse, the teacher, the driver, the singer

selfless like the rain, the earth, the sun.

I am a mother,

small things make me cry for joy.

like little notes that say “luv mom”

or sketched portrait with ugly teeth and fuzzy hair,

every line reflecting admiration and care.

I am a mother,

my heart deep and vast like an ocean.

I am a mother,

paradise lies under my feet.

Mirkena Ozer pursues MA in creative writing at the University of Georgia, Atlanta.

On the last day of summer

Ten hours before fall…

….My grandfather took me

Out to the Wall.

For a while he stood silent

Then finally he said,

With a very sad shake

Of his very old head,

“As you know, on this side of the Wall

We are Yooks.

On the other side of the Wall

Live the Zooks”

Thus, The Butter Battle Book, written by the well known author, Dr. Seuss invites the young reader to the world of Yooks and Zooks. The colorful illustrations of the book show from the first two pages that Yooks and Zooks are creatures quite alike in appearance with the only difference that Yooks dress in blue while Zooks are dressed in orange. Hence one cannot grasp at the beginning why a wall stands between them. Yet, the following words of the grandfather introduce to the reader another “important” difference without delay.

Then my grandfather said

“It’s high time that you knew

Of the terrible, horrible thing that Zooks do

In every Zook house and in every Zook town

Every Zook eats his bread

With the butter side down!”

“But we Yooks, as you know,

when we breakfast or sup,

spread our bread,” Grandpa said,

“with the butter side up

That’s the right, honest way!”

Grandpa gritted his teeth.

“So you can’t trust a Zook who spreads bread underneath!

Now, I see you smile at the “horrible” crime Zooks commit but don’t dismiss it as a funny little story. Rather try to remember how your own parents, your teachers, or even books you read shaped the way you looked at others. How much of this acquired knowledge and experience caused prejudice, fear, and hostility? Or if you please, take a greater challenge and ponder on how you interact today with people that are different from you. Do you erect walls or do you build bridges?

As you reflect on yourself and your life consider how the grandfather Yook delivers an important warning to his grandchild.

Every Zook must be watched!

He has kinks in his soul!

That’s why, as a youth, I made watching my goal,

watching Zooks for the Zook-Watching Border Patrol!

In those days, of course

the Wall wasn’t so high

and I could look any Zook

square in the eye

If he dared to come close

I could give him a twitch

With my tough-tufted

Snick Berry Switch

Isn’t it interesting that the difference between Yooks and Zooks instead of becoming a reason for curious attraction toward each other became a pretext for hostility and suspicion? Then again, this is no novelty to us, is it? When fear and hostility join hand, the clash is sure to come.

For the Yooks the clash began when one day a Zook named Van Itch slingshot the Grandfather’s “Tough-Tufted Prickly Snick-Berry Switch.” The Yooks then developed a machine with three slingshots interlinked, called a “Triple-Sling Jigger.” This gun worked once (Van Itch got scared and ran off), but the Zooks counterattacked with their own creation: The “Jigger-Rock Snatchem,” a machine with three nets to fling the rocks fired from the Triple-Sling Jigger back at the Yooks’ side “just as fast as we catch ‘em.”

Page by page the conflict between the two sides escalates and leads to a long arms race for bigger and better weapons to outdo the other, which unsurprisingly brings the Yooks and Zooks on the scary threshold of mutual destruction.

The Butter Battle Book was written during the Cold War era, and many critics think that the book reflects the concerns of the time, especially the perceived possibility that all life on earth could be destroyed in a nuclear war. The book’s apparent position regarding the arms race could be one of the reasons why The Butter Battle Book was once removed from the shelves of public libraries during the Cold War. Another reason could have been educators’ worries about the inappropriateness of introducing the idea of annihilation to young children.

The Butter Battle Book has also been seen as an enjoyable satirical work, with its depiction of a deadly war based on a senseless conflict over something as trivial as a breakfast food. The book’s delightful illustrations and its tongue twisting rhymes make the book fun to read.

Let’s go back to the book because meanwhile, both the Yooks and the Zooks have come to the end of their race. Both sides have developed the same equally powerful destructive bomb: “the bitsy big boy boomeroo.” On the last page of the book grandfather and Van Itch stand still about to drop the bomb and we hear the grandchild’s fearful cry:

“Granpa!” I shouted “Be careful! Oh Gee!

Who’s going to drop it?

Will you…? Will he…?”

“Be patient,” said Granpa. “We’ll see.”

“We will see…”

You may feel unsatisfied with the inconclusive ending, yet some literary critics deem it perfect for provoking discussion on how Zooks and Yooks might develop alternative ways to solve their problems. In fact, this entire book could be an excellent manual for peace studies educators to incorporate conflict resolution on both small and large scales.

On the other hand a National Review article published in July 27, 1984 (shortly after the book came out in print) draws attention to the idea that the inconclusive ending of the book could do damage to the cause Seuss is professing. The article claims that: “By ending inconclusively, with neither side having fired a serious shot and with each side wary of the nuclear weapons of the other, Seuss reminds us that nuclear weapons have kept the peace for nearly forty years now.” According to this article children may as well conclude that the surest way to achieve peace is to remain strong albeit strong at times might translate into inventing and possessing weapons of mass destruction.

Parental or teacher guidance during the reading of this book could be of great help in this case. Thought provoking questions can be addressed such as: Can the non-existence of war be considered real peace? Is a cold war the most peace that can be achieved?

Conclusion

Because history seems to repeat itself The Butter Battle Book and its message are far from obsolete even today, two decades later. As we hear with dread news of wars and ongoing nuclear armaments, as the map of the world is marked with more “hot spots,” we get the gut feeling that maybe we are living in the land of Yooks and Zooks. We feel that it is imperative to promote peace and prevent the infamous prediction of the so called clash of civilizations.

If we, people of this world, should wage a war why not wage one to eradicate poverty, ignorance and hostility? If we should take up arms can’t they be sound education, tolerance, love, and mutual understanding? With the situation as it is, it seems like we don’t possess the luxury to lay back and say: “We’ll see…. We will see…”

It brings hope to see that many people think likewise and have already rolled up their sleeves for the noble cause of peace making. The opportunities to get involved in this noble cause for peace are limitless starting from nonprofit organizations promoting tolerance and peacemaking to small groups that act against prejudice and discrimination. If you feel you are too insignificant to make an impact, then here is something simple to do; read The Butter Battle Book with a child and talk about all the beauties that come with peace.

Mirkena Ozer pursues creative writing at University of Georgia, Atlanta.

References and notes

1. http://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+Butter+Battle+Book.-a03363441.

We certainly fail if we try to consider time as only a matter of determining the hour. It is, in fact, a dimension like depth, height and length. One reason of our difficulty in perceiving time may be caused by the fact that our optical perception is sensitive only to three dimensions, but no others. Many animals cannot comprehend the dimension of depth. Some animals see their environs in two dimensions as in pictures. We have difficulty perceiving other dimensions just as animals which see the world in two colors live without any awareness of other colors.

Humankind, with the most sophisticated aspects, has a very different and privileged position above all creation. In spite of this, we have limited sight, hearing, and other senses. Many a world that is beyond our senses remains imperceptible to us.

Another aspect of time that supports its dimensional feature is that it is in full conformity with and proportional to other dimensions. In terms of its extent, duration of events increases or decreases in parallel with spatial dimensions. Man lives for around sixty to seventy years, while microscopic animals live around one or two days. The life of the sun and the universe which constitute the macrocosmos is expressed in billions of years. On the other hand, the life of subatomic particles is expressed in billionths of a second. Thus, we assume them as being resonances. There is time reduction together with and compatible with space constriction on the sub-atomic scale, and this fact is yet another proof that time is also a dimension.

How shall we understand the other dimensions of space? What does the fourth dimension of space mean? Let alone describing, it is not easy to even imagine this.

If a is the length, a2 is the area and a3 is the volume of a thing, then what is a4? If we see space as a giant plain sheet of paper, that sheet of paper has no depth but only a surface. If we fold crumple it into the shape of a sphere, we obtain “Riemann space.” Just like we perceive the three-dimensional earth as a two-dimensional surface while we are on it, this 3-dimensional sphere made of 2-dimensional paper will be perceived as 2 dimensional by us. We can only talk about the third dimension after we generate a depth, that is, after we step outside the paper and move above and below it.

The fourth co-ordinate of space is a tunnel. Let us suppose that the universe is two-dimensional, that is, it is like a thin sheet of paper, and let us human beings be like pictures with no thickness over its surface just like the pictures on a newspaper. We are free to move in all directions on this sheet of paper. We can sense four directions. But we will never perceive the terms “up” and “down” (or “upper” and “lower”) since we will never leave the surface of this sheet of paper. Such terms will seem unacceptable to us even we are told of them. Accordingly, we will never hear of a third dimension and our vocabularies will never contain such terms as “up” and “down.”

If a three-dimensional object existed above our fictional paper realm and if this object even slit our paper realm and went away, we still would not see it in three dimensions but only the part of it intersecting our paper realm. If such a thing were a sphere, for instance, we would see its projection in a circular form. Its latitudinal sections would gradually expand starting from the poles, reach their largest on the equator line and its ring-like (circular) shape would gradually decrease and finally disappear at the other pole. That is, we would see it only as its cross section or shade. Such a three-dimensional object would seem two-dimensional to us since we would suddenly see its cross section. The sudden appearance, expansion, decrease and final vanishing of that spherical object in our two-dimensional realm would seem quite amazing to us since our shapes are fixed and immovable.

The three-dimensional shade of an extraterrestrial four-dimensional object overshadows our three-dimensional space. We see the linear tunnels in cross-section, not longitudinally, just as we see the sphere as circular. Though the sphere is a simple object, it amazes us.

Let us now imagine a more complex form. Let us, for instance, reflect the shadow of a vase onto a wall and obtain various shades by turning it repeatedly. A fixed and immovable portrait on the wall would regard the shadow and its variations reflected over the same plane with surprise and fear, since that portrait, or that person without depth, sees only what is reflected on the wall, but not us and the vase. The wall is the only realm for him and there is nothing for him beyond and behind the wall even if we say so.

We humans tend to assess events within the narrow limits of space and within certain dimensions, since we are bound within a single space–time cone. The conceptualization of space with its dimensions of height, length and depth is possible for us. However, the fourth dimension, time, is an abstract and metaphysical measure even though it is studied within physics. The tunnel thus seems to us like an incredible dimension.

Our perceptions with the five senses in the visible universe can be considered as the projections of non-physical and multi-dimensional realities (the eighteen thousand realms) to our domain. Clearly, in order to gain a better understanding of those realms, which we do not see but which we feel exist, with the help of the physics, we need to emancipate ourselves from the narrow patterns of time and space in this world of trial. We need to travel toward the horizon of spirit and develop an all-new scientific language which approaches physics and metaphysics together. Finally, we can say, in Bediüzzaman’s words, that the physical and observable universe which is the domain of research for modern physics is an ornamented curtain veiling the world of the unseen.

Osman Cakmak is a professor of chemistry at Gaziosmanpasa University, Tokat, Turkey.

…

I love my daughter, I really do. When my daughter laughs with me right now, it’s as if that is the definition of happiness. But I came home from work at midnight yesterday and had to run errands this morning. I really wanted to stay home this afternoon and get some rest, but my wife wanted to meet her friends. God, I feel so tired, and I haven’t even been able to read the newspapers today; I wonder what the repercussions of yesterday’s market crisis are. I hope the day I will retire comes soon…

…

My days in this house are rather routine and lonely. I watch the news, eat, walk, read, and once in a while get together with friends in the neighborhood. My wife left me after I retired, which I understand happens often in neglected marriages. My daughter visits me in the summers and stays with me for a few weeks at least, for which I feel blessed. An interesting development has occurred in my psyche: Recently, I have been feeling this growing envy for people who do physical work. All my life, my job entitled making abstract decisions about abstract situations. Not once did I do something that I could step back from and take a look at the outcome of my effort. Just today I was watching a construction worker building a wall. What a great feeling it must be to start in the morning where there is no wall and in the evening to see the result of your daily work, a wall that you have built with your own hands.

…

Being a worker is no great feat. Sure the pay is not bad, I can’t complain about that, but everybody knows it can’t last. I mean, first off, you don’t get much contracts in the winter, then the big companies take up most of the stuff and let’s face it, I can’t earn my money on this when I’m fifty, then you lift boxes in a supermarket, what else? You may find this funny coming from me, but I always wanted to be a musician, a cello player; that’s what I wanted to do. I wish I could be in the shoes of that cello kid in the poster in front of the concert hall.

…

I am a cellist. I have loved the sound of cello for as long as I can remember, I do not know why, and now when people ask me I tell them I love the cello because it is the instrument that most resembles the human voice. That is not why but it sounds better. I have practiced hard for more than fifteen years now, on average four hours a day. This practice may have its rewarding moments, but most of the time it feels like you are trying to achieve something that is in no way achievable. My parents never approved of my choice and I think they never will, unless I reach the level of a Rostropovich, which for me is clearly impossible. Everything set aside, the upsetting thing is that my real passion is composing music, although I am not very good at it. I have been taking classes with an instructor in my college on music composition, and I am in awe at his achievements. I would give up everything I have at any moment to be able to compose like he does.

…

Some may say that I have contributed some pieces to our musical library. I would say that they are either too kind or they do not know music. I teach music composition in a mediocre music school and until now I have been able to convince my students and colleagues that my compositions are important. Fortunately, I myself do not share that delusion. I say fortunately because I know that I have in me something waiting to be written on score sheets, something sublime, something… that I haven’t been able to get out of me in the last couple of years. I do love the process, even though many nights the candle on my piano burns down and I haven’t been able to write a single note. Am I burned out too? Is my hope for a sublime finale the real delusion? Why cannot I be like the great master Beethoven?

…

I am Beethoven. My music has been hailed as the work of a genius, which still gives me great satisfaction. However, there are two substantial catches with my present situation. First, I am deaf; I went deaf in the last thirteen years of my life. As an ironical twist of fate, I, the great Beethoven, was never able to hear any of my greatest work, my 9th symphony. Second, I am dead; I do not know how long I have been dead, a year or hundreds of years; I have been waiting in this grave in complete silence and in complete darkness. Often, I find myself imagining a scene from my life. No, not the time when the Archduke celebrated my work, not the time when the Eroica was first performed either. It is a much simpler and at the same time, a much more handsome memory. There was a time when I was strolling in the park one afternoon and I was enjoying the gentle touch of sunrays coming through the trees. A flute was playing Bach’s Badinerie in the distance. It was a beautiful day…

Firat Kocol is a freelance writer. He lives in Boston. He can be contacted at firatkocol@gmail.com