WeCroak, the app that reminds me five times a day that I’m going to die (which is far less necessary these days but still incredibly valuable), accompanies its grim reminders with a quote that is meant to be inspirational, insightful, or thought provoking.
They occasionally are.
The app was inspired by the Bhutanese folk saying:
“To be a happy person, one must contemplate death five times daily.”
Based upon this belief, I must be the happiest person on the planet, and sometimes I think I might be. You can’t begin to imagine how often I contemplate death. Truly.
Still, the random reminders during the day have done me wonders. Quite often, they seem to arrive at the perfect moment. On a dark and stormy night two years ago, I was on my way to a Moth StorySLAM in New York City when I ran into unspeakable traffic. I was less than an hour from home at the time, and based upon the endless line of cars, it looked like I might not make it to the StorySLAM in time to drop my name in the hat.
“To hell with it,” I said and picked up my phone to redirect my GPS toward home.
Waiting for me on the screen was the reminder:
“Don’t forget. You’re going to die.”
Instead of turning around and heading for home, I pressed on. I arrived at the venue in the nick of time, dropped my name in the hat, found a seat beside a friend and fellow storyteller, and won the competition that night.
It’s good to be reminded from time to time that you contain an expiration date. A little rain and some stop-and-go traffic should never stand in the way of making your dreams come true.
Thanks to those inspirational quotes, the app has also introduced me to poets, philosophers, and notable thinkers who I’ve never met but who apparently share my mind.
Poet Charles Wright is one of those people. Despite my love of poetry and my degree in English, I’d never heard of Wright prior to the inclusion of some of his quotes in the app. He is a former National Poet Laureate who’s 1997 book Black Zodiac won him the National Book Critics Circle Award and the 1998 Pulitzer Prize.
A copy of Black Zodiac is currently on its way to my home.
My favorite quote by Charles Wright (thus far) is this:
Nothing could be truer.
My willingness to stretch beyond “What I like” to what is “foreign and unknown” has led to so many of the things that make my life grand.
Simple things like the two cats sitting on a chair are the result of my willingness to embrace the foreign and unknown. About a year after the passing our our cat, Owen, Elysha wanted cats again, but I thought our life was far simpler and contained less potential heartache if we remained pet-free. I ultimately agreed to the cats, recognizing the need to never stand still, and these two furry friends have been a joy in my life.
A blessing beyond measure.
Much larger things, like my decision to take the stage back in July of 2011 and tell a story at The Moth, ultimately led to a new career, thousands of new opportunities, a successful business, travel around the world, a popular podcast, a multitude of new friends, a book deal, and more.
On that night in July, I decided to do something foreign and unknown to me. Something frightening and unnerving.
My life has never been the same.
Enormous things, too, like my son, are the result of my willingness to embrace of the foreign and unknown. I was perfectly happy being the parent of one child, but when Elysha wanted a second, I agreed, knowing that shifting my life in enormous and profound ways has always made my life better.
I can’t imagine the world without my son, Charlie.
Today I’m performing standup simply because it’s foreign and unknown to me. It frightens me, so I do it whenever possible.
I’m writing a musical with a friend (a two-person show) with the intention of performing in the show despite the fact that I cannot sing.
I aggressively cannot sing.
Two weeks ago, I taught my first virtual storytelling workshop and performed my first virtual solo show despite my many concerns and fears. I wondered if my in-person workshops and live performances could translate effectively to a computer screen.
Honestly, I didn’t think it could work.
But I trusted my partner and collaborator, Kat Koppett, enough to give it a try. The response was overwhelmingly positive. I find myself surprisingly ready to try it again. And three days later, I began teaching my first advanced level workshop virtually to six storytellers from Seattle, Singapore, Chicago, Atlanta, and Massachusetts.
So far, so good. Not only is it working, but I’m expanding my reach across the globe, which never would’ve been possible had I not stepped into the foreign and unknown.
Charles Wright is 84 years-old and living in Tennessee, so it’s unlikely that I will have the honor of meeting him someday. But thanks to an app that constantly reminds me that I will die someday, I have been granted small glimpses into his mind.
When his book arrives, I hope to get an even better peek.
But if I ever have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Wright someday, I will thank him for sharing his wisdom with the world and express my deepest gratitude for making me feel like my mind and thoughts aren’t as strange and foreign as they sometimes feel.
Like-minded people are so very hard to find in this world.
