Orange-blossom Tea and Mortality (the post that has nothing to do with travel)

While working this afternoon, I was particularly enjoying my cup of room-temperature orange blossom tea, and I popped over to Facebook to share this small happiness with my friends. My Facebook philosophy tends toward posting only when I have something happy to share. My philosophy in ‘real life’ tends in the same direction: to maintain a positive outlook, I strive daily to count my blessings and fully experience the small pleasures of life. I ‘live in the moment’ and ‘carpe diem’, and when I’m not feeling it, I tell myself to refocus on the positives. When I perfect my focus on the small things that make me happy, it’s easier to forgo negativity about small inconveniences or minor disappointments.

Inevitably though, in this life, there will be catastrophes and major disappointments. Opening Facebook today, before I had the chance to share my little ray of orange-blossom sunshine, I found myself facing big issues of the negative variety. One friend linked to Al Jazeera’s blog coverage of terrible, violent unrest in Libya, and another delivered news that a classmate from days long gone by died today of cancer. As uncertainty, fear and sadness encroached – political unrest, violence against defenseless masses, the grief left behind when someone leaves this life at a young age – I found that I was debating whether to allow myself to even experience the negative emotions. Should I look at the photos of my classmate with his wife and young children and steep myself in recognition of the frailty of our human nature? Should I read and attempt to understand what’s happening on the other side of the world - what it means for families there and what it means for me? I had a strong desire just to post my happy status, fix my mind on all of the beauty in my life, and move on with my day.

In the end, although it was not my close friend who had passed away or my family that was being attacked by corrupt government, I chose not to attempt to escape these reminders of the fragility of life. I have no guarantee that tomorrow’s catastrophe will not be my catastrophe. How would I react? Or better stated: How will I react? The only guarantee I have in this life is death - either I will die first or I will suffer when my loved ones die. And though it’s not a guarantee, it’s likely that I’ll have to deal with ugly situations (physical and emotional) in the meantime. In theory, I know that I can weather any storm that comes my way, because I recognize that this life is not the apex of my existence. My belief in our eternal souls and in an eternal reward for those who serve God will always put my mortal suffering in perspective. I acknowledge that I have been lucky and blessed in my life so far – I have not suffered greatly, and therefore, this perspective has not been put to the ultimate test. Today, as I ponder my search for happiness through a focus on the little joys of life, I wonder if, in the process of overlooking life’s little problems, am I also blinding myself to the spiritual framework on which I plan to rest when real trouble comes into my life. I am touched by others’ sorrows, and so today, rather than seeking to escape negative emotion by an enjoyment of the little things, I choose instead to take comfort in the big things: This world is not my home, and I do not expect to take a painless trip through it, but in the end, I will have eternal life with my Creator.

While happiness can and should be sought through enjoyment of life’s beauty, great and small, I should not use these blessings to shield me from the daily reminders that this is an imperfect world, and everyone in it will face suffering and, ultimately, mortality. Today, I am convicted that, rather than hiding uncertainty, fear and sadness behind a focus on this beautiful life, I should allow myself to see that life is full of pain. I should remember to trust in God when facing these sorrows, so that I will be prepared to trust Him in times when the pleasures of life could not possibly shield me from the sorrows.

I recognize that many of my facebook friends don’t share my faith, and, even amongst those who do, I feel sure that there are some who spend greater efforts seeking momentary happiness than seeking meaning in this life or preparing for our ultimate date with mortality. I’m challenging myself to be more realistic in this area, and I guess, for anyone who’s read this all the way through, I’m challenging you too. I welcome your thoughts.