Monday, May 16, 2011

Meaning of Life

Eddie, an 83 year old war veteran and a very sweet guy, discovers his life's purpose only after he dies, in the film, Five People You Meet in Heaven. Eddie, played wonderfully by John Voight, begins his tale at the end, shortly after he dies. We follow him into the afterlife where he meets five people, one by one, who help him review his life and discover things he did not know. In a series of flashbacks that jump back and forth in time, we piece together the story of a difficult childhood, a promising future, a traumatic war event and the consequent loss of a life dream. The story is neither predicable nor formulaic. It is a complicated examination of a human psyche, with many unexpected twists and turns. Except for the heavenly music which might be off putting for some, the film is definitely worth a look.

In contrast to the hero in Ikiru (the film discussed in my last post), Eddie believes most of his adult life that he has failed to live up to his potential. He discovers, however, that life is not always about what we think it is. Both films examine what it means to have lived well. Interestingly, they come to a similar conclusion -- it is by helping others that we find our deepest satisfaction. In Eddie's case, as the maintenance man of Ruby Amusement Park, it is about the special kindness he showed to the children who visit the park. It is the close attention he gave to the rides to make sure they were safe. And ultimately, it is about his final act of selflessness to save a child from a broken ride. The sacrificial rescue is completely in character. It is who Eddie is -- the big guy who helps the small and the weak. His story is also about forgiveness, but you'll have to see the film for the details.

Both films, Ikiru and Five People You Meet in Heaven, asks us to consider the meaning of our own lives, how well and fully we are living and whether, given a sudden and unexpected death, we would measure up. It is about living heartfully and courageously though not necessarily in a big or flamboyant way. This subject is very dear to my own heart. It is one of the reason for making and sharing my film series, Secrets of Life and Death. They are films about preparing for death, yes, but also about what death can teach us about how we live our lives, about life's impermanence and unpredictability and what is truly important.

Like Eddie, we do not always know the impact of our actions. His story reminds me of another story told by Rachel Naomi Ramen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings. It's about a business man, George, who thought his life had been a waste. He had two ex-wives and five children whom he knew nothing about because he spent his life building a business and making money. Diagnosed with lung cancer, he now lamented his choice. Rachel, his counselor, knew that he was the inventor of a medical device that enabled people with a chronic disease to live an almost normal life. One of her patients, Stephanie, was a grateful user of this device. Rachel asked Stephanie if she would be willing to write an anonymous note to the man explaining what a difference his invention had made in her life. Stephanie went one better and asked Rachel to invite him to her house for dinner. George agreed, but when he arrived he was met, not by just Stephanie and her husband but by her whole family -- parents, aunts and uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, her husband's parents and many friend and neighbors, the whole community that had sustained Stephanie in the years she was an invalid. They had come to share their stories, the part they had played, basically the story of Stephanie's life from its many angles. At the end of the sharing, more than three hours, Stephanie told George, "This is really a story about you." Later, back at her office, Rachel asked George how many devices he manufactured every year. "Close to ten thousand," he answered softly. Then he said, "I knew the numbers, Rachel, I had no idea what they meant."

Share your story. Who has been a blessing to you? Whom have you blessed? What can you do for someone today?

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

TO LIVE!

Back in 1952, Akria Kurosawa made a film Ikiru, which means “to live.” It’s about a career bureaucrat, a minor cog in the huge Japanese government bureaucracy, who, along with everyone else there, spends his entire working life doing nothing and avoiding doing anything. When our protagonist, Kanji Wantanabe, discovers, indirectly, that he has a terminal stomach cancer he sets out on quest to find out what life is about. In the end he finds redemption in helping a neighborhood transform a toxic sewage spill into a playground for the poor children. The film is a good reminder about the purpose of life. "Not dead" does not mean "alive."

It is easy to get caught up in the routine of daily life, making a living, paying the bills, keeping ahead of the escalating demands of work and home. Americans work more hours on the job than any other industrialized nation, clocking up nearly two working weeks more than their counterparts in Japan, the second most worked people of the industrialized world. That does not give a lot of time for self-awareness or reflection. 

One of the purposes of my film series, Secrets of Life and Death, is to wake people up to their mortality before death comes knocking at the door. By acknowledging death, we may, like Kanji Wantanabe, be encouraged to have a more creative and fulfilling life. Death exposes the fragility and tenuousness of everyday life, of our whole material existence. This realization can be both ecstatic and shattering. Shattering if like Kanji we waste our precious time in mindless and meaningless repetition until it is almost too late. Ecstatic when we heed the whisper of our hearts and connect to those activities and things that nourish our souls. Death admonishes us to live more fully, to let go of minor irritations, to take chances, show up and pursue our most fervent desires, hopes and dreams.

Kanji shows us that helping others is a worthy pursuit. We do not even need to do something huge and dramatic. It could begin with a simple word of validation. Say something positive to the next person you meet and see how you feel.