Amor Fati: Meditations on Life, Death, and the Great Beyond.
I learned of the passing of an old tennis friend recently. He was a friend first, tennis was just something we played before pickleball became all the rage. I lived in Washington at the time, and occasionally the skies would part like the Red Sea, revealing a safe passage to the promised land, also known as the West Seattle Tennis Courts. My friend wasn’t that old, relatively speaking, so it came as a surprise, as he was an image of vigor in life and in travel, a citizen of the world, with a sincere smile and a firm handshake, one that left an imprint, a memory of who he was.
Losing friends and family members has been happening more frequently in my extended circle, some of them unexpectedly, time bending as you get nearer the horizon, companeros on the trail heading off into the sunset, some of them disappearing out of sight, journeying ahead on the camino royal to wherever the next stop is. Like the soon to be geriatric mid-30 year olds I encountered on my last writing excursion, I sometimes think about my biological clock as well, the one that tells me time is getting shorter too. Tick, tock.
“Everyone I know goes away in the end.”
(Trent Reznor/Hurt. Remastered by Johnny Cash)
Amor fati is Latin for- “love of fate.” It’s probably self explanatory, so to avoid mansplaining, here’s Google’s version: “A philosophical concept that encourages embracing all aspects of life, including both the positive and the negative, as integral and valuable. It’s about accepting everything that happens, even setbacks and hardships, as part of the whole and finding meaning and even joy in it.”
Easier said than done, especially when losing loved ones.
Amor fati is an idea that goes back to the beginning of time, though gained notoriety with the Stoics of Ancient Greece around 300 B.C., and later popularized by the likes of Marcus Aurelius in his book- “Meditations.” Many others have sampled these ideas, including me, regurgitating them for a new generation. I don’t really consider myself a stoic, or a lover of fate, I’m more of a pickleball player these days that dabbles in writing when I don’t have a ball to chase. Like a dog, but with paws that can type, scratching an itch so to speak.
To contemplate “The good life,” one has to contemplate its opposite, which means coming to terms with death and the aging process. You see some of that on the court every day- the agony and the ecstasy, some limping off into the sunset there too, but hopefully to return to play another day. I know some think contemplating death and mortality is morbid, and something to be avoided at all costs, less you jinx yourself somehow. I don’t believe in jinxes, but I do believe in walruses.
My dad has been walking the razor’s edge between worlds for a while, surviving COVID last summer, and a bout of pneumonia this year. There have been a couple of mental rehearsals for his departure to parts unknown. When you see people disappearing before you, it’s natural to contemplate your own mortality, and that of those around you. Who knows what happens when we transition from larvae to butterfly, other than earning our wings to fly, though I know there are many stories that purport to explain.
I recently listened to an interview with Robert Garland, a British philologist and historian, and author of “What To Expect When You’re Dead: An Ancient Tour of Death and the Afterlife.” It wasn’t on purpose, the interview just popped up on the XM satellite U2 station I was listening to, so it caught my attention as it coincided with some things I had been thinking about. U2’s song Beautiful Day is on my top 10 list, and it’s about embracing Amor Fati in a way as well. I bought a copy of the album while visiting my brother in New York in 2001, before venturing on to Spain. It was at the end of August, days before the Twin Towers were struck. I had stopped by the Trade Center before catching a train to Flushing Meadows for the US Open that year. That album has been embedded in my consciousness ever since, for more reasons than one, and the song has become a rallying call for resilience in the face of tragedy.
Many of the renowned Western poets resided in England, Ireland and Scotland, so perhaps tangling with dark and dreary weather led them to become master wordsmiths when tangling with dark and dreary subjects. I haven’t read Garland’s book, but he looks at death and the afterlife through ancient cultures, and the stories they came up with in an attempt to explain the good life, as well as give some divination about the next.
One story that stood out in Garland’s interview was how the concept of “Hell” wasn’t really mentioned a lot during Jesus time, but rather evolved in the 2nd century AD, and became particularly diabolical in description later in Western literature, with the likes of Dante’s Inferno, written in the early 1300’s by Dante Alighieri. His canonical version is a poem in three parts- Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso, which reflects the afterlife perspective of many to this day. It also reflected his own journey at the time, as he was exiled from Florence, and threatened with burning at the stake, so you can see how his imagination might have been fueled by fire. And if you visit any medieval museums, you can also see their painstakingly thought out instruments of torture, so understandable how Hell might have taken on more nefarious descriptions over the centuries.
I recently watched season 3 of White Lotus, which takes place in Thailand at a luxury resort for the financially privileged. It contains overlapping themes around materialism, pleasure, sex, anger, karma, and how much control we have over our fate- a soap opera for adults, with a dash of Buddhism sprinkled in. Pretty much every character in the show is suffering from bad decisions they’ve made, which is what makes it interesting. A perfect life does not exist, nor does it make for a good story. Even if we do have some control over our destiny, we can’t always be sure how our decisions will turn out.
Timothy Ratliff, one of the lead characters in the show, is the CEO of a colorfully clothed southern household, occasionally swapping his pastel colored Tommy Bahama linens for some Duke attire, the University crest emblazoned across his chest , but unfortunately it can’t protect him from himself, as it turns out the clothes don’t make the man. His family has come to depend on him to get through life, along with protein shakes and lorazepam. He’s barely hanging on himself, past decisions coming back to haunt him.
His daughter is looking for refuge from the crazy family dynamics, having steered their vacation to this faraway place to set up a meeting with a Buddhist monk from the nearby Temple she wants to join against her mother’s anxiety riddled wishes. Everyone is trying to drown their pain in some sort of way. There’s a Temple service scene where the monk is giving a talk about facing the unpredictability of life, interspersed with scenes of the chaotic lives of everyone at the resort as they search for connection and happiness:
“We wait with anxiety… an edgy energy… What will happen today? What is in store for me? So many questions. We want resolution. Solid earth under our feet. So we take life into our own hands…we take action. Our solutions are temporary — they are a quick fix. They create more anxiety, more suffering. There is no resolution to life’s questions. It is easier to be patient once we finally accept there is no resolution.”
The show is partly a commentary on social media and the shiny lives we might portray to the public, while something dark lurks beneath the surface. Nothing wrong with sharing the good parts of life, as what you focus on grows. Generally I like to keep things light as well, but sometimes I like to dive in the deep end and look at life from different perspectives farther beneath the surface. I found myself struggling with a minor decision recently more than I thought I should have, and have often wondered if there might be a quick fix to help arrive at decisions without feeling some second guessing. Some pithy stoic advice perhaps. In the process I was reminded of writer/entrepreneur Derek Sivers, who wrote a book called- “Hell Yeah or No, what’s worth doing.”
Basically it’s a concept he came up with when thinking about how to filter through too many business ideas, and trying to decide where to put his energy. If you’re not saying “hell yes” to something, you should say no so that you can free yourself up for those things you really want to do when they show up. Mark Manson, the author of “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck,” expanded Derek’s idea to dating, suggesting similarly if you’re not saying- F*ck yes, you should be saying F*ck no. (https://markmanson.net/). I’ve since expanded their ideas to breakfast cereal, so if you find yourself in the grocery aisle overwhelmed by the number of options, you’ll have a ready philosophy for knowing what to do.
Why am I even mentioning this? Life can be a continual search for how to live well, and learning when to say yes or no to things with our limited time here. The monk in White Lotus may be right that there is no final resolution to the anxiety of being human. In the instance I was feeling stuck, I realized I wasn’t feeling a “hell yes,” so I said no. It didn’t mean things were going to somehow magically turn out, it just helped me to move in a direction. It also opened up an interesting rabbit hole. Derek is a fascinating and passionate guy. Good Reads has this brief bio about him:
“Formerly a musician, programmer, TED speaker, and circus clown, he sold his first company for $22 million and gave all the money to charity.”
He’s since written several books, one entitled: How to live- 27 conflicting answers and one weird conclusion. Spoiler alert — the conclusion is that there isn’t one single best way to live, or one motto that can get you through all of life’s difficulties. You can find contradictory advice on everything- even the best way to wake up in the morning. In fact he now looks at things that he’s feeling some resistance to as opportunities to grow, often putting himself in uncomfortable situations on purpose. Like adopting some pet rats for his son. Or living in a 4x8 home with no kitchen or bathroom.
Aging is an uncomfortable situation for most people. We don’t revere getting older in our culture, and in fact it’s frowned upon. Even old people frown upon it. I don’t like it either, but I am trying to embrace it. For some, aging awareness starts when you learn you can’t be “Forever 21,” in spite of what the retail chain might sell you. It could be turning 30, 40, 50, menopause, man-o-pause, or whatever life change destabilizes your world view, and it might lead you you to pause and reflect on stones unturned, or the dissolution of dreams that didn’t turn out as envisioned- marriage, divorce, kids, the loss of a career, or perhaps your health.
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Every culture has stories about what’s considered a good life, and what might happen in the next. King Solomon reflected on the good life in Ecclesiastes 3000 years ago. He had over 700 wives and 300 concubines according to his publicist. He may have been the inspiration for Modelo’s- Most interesting man in the world. But the story is not what you might expect, given we live in times where wealth and power are revered. It’s more of a warning call. The opening line of Solomon’s first chapter in Ecclesiastes is- “Everything is meaningless.”
Here’s an excerpt from a book review of Ecclesiastes:
“He amassed vineyards, castles and concubines, and all the things that money could buy. He comes to the conclusion that wisdom is better than folly, but that too will come to the same end. By the end of chapter 2 he’s made it clear that there’s no escape in the world, whether through work, fame, money or relationship.”
The Bible is not really known for its comedy, but it’s been said that God does have a sense of humor. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but in his later years Solomon rejected the materialistic path to happiness, saying- “all is vanity.” It can feel a bit like the movie Groundhog Day — the repetitive tasks in life feeling meaningless at some point. It’s the same fate Sisyphus faced in pushing the rock up the hill over and over. Viktor Frankl and Albert Camus, both survivors of the craziness of WW2, came to similar conclusions- life can feel absurd at times, but that it’s possible to find meaning in spite of and even through suffering.
“In the end, we’ll all become stories.”
Margaret Atwood.
My friend who passed recently was a good person and a good father, as the tributes to him attest. I can attest to that too. The older I get the more appreciation I have for my parents, and parenting in general- seeing my dad, a good man as well- face the indignities of aging that can befall anyone if you live long enough.
I don’t pretend to know what happens after our time here. There’s a scene in the final episode of White Lotus where Timothy visits the Buddhist Temple to asks the monk about why his daughter would want to join such a place, but also to ask him what he thinks happens to us after we die, as he’s struggling with his own mortality, and the legacy he might be leaving. The monk replies with a story about how we are part of an ocean to which we return- no more separation, and no more suffering:
Letting go is never easy, not with ones we love, and not when we’re attached to a certain outcome. A couple years ago I was struggling with some feelings on a visit home to see my dad, seeing the challenges he has to go through, but also never knowing if it might be the last time I might see him. I still go through it. I’ve been through it with others in my life too, wanting to control the outcome in a way, but of course we’re not able to- it’s difficult enough to control our own minds. I wrote a poem about it, trying to make sense of what I was feeling, not knowing when to stay or when to go:
The Longing Goodbye:
Every time I say goodbye,
It never gets easier,
Nor clearer,
When to stay, or when to go,
The tea leaves hard to read at times,
Humbled by unknowing:
How much time do we have?
Will we ever see them again?
Or will this be our final embrace?
So I chew on it,
The sorrow, the pain,
And swallow it as best I can,
Hugging tighter each time…
A lump in my throat.
The feelings can equally be applied to any relationship, as someone shared with me about a divorce they went through. I think it’s part of the human condition. The feelings don’t magically become easier, but running from them isn’t the answer. The fate of love (amor) is that you must accept the bad with the good, there is no other way. To quote Solomon: “To everything there is a season.”
