Live for Today – Sunday, March 21, 1982
Those who have some clue that they are approaching death—the aged, the terminally ill—seem to gain an insight into the meaning of life. Their conclusion is universal. Live life to the fullest; live life as if each day were the last, as well it may be.
This is a motto to measure life not by its length but by its depth.
To live is not merely to breathe, it is to experience, to make use of our senses, our capacity to feel. To be alive merely to acquire material possessions or fame, or to experience only sensual pleasure, is to trade that which is worthless. Too soon life is gone. Even as we speak, a portion of it has fled. Regardless of its length, it is short. The man who dies at 100 and he who dies at 20 lose one and the same thing: the opportunity to live for today.
“Had I the chance to live life over,” wrote Michael Robinson, “I would do things somewhat differently. I would understand at the beginning that much of our life is spent in vain pursuits. If I could do it again, I would hate less and live more, work less overtime and spend more time with my family, argue less and listen more, collect fewer debts and more friends.”
If God granted me a second chance, I would grow closer to living things—to petunias, to aspen trees, to kittens, to my children. Bedtime stories would be as important as news stories; valentines and birthdays would be as honored as paydays. I would never go to bed without saying to someone, ‘I love you,’ or without experiencing the beauty of a song, a poem, or a painting.
And finally, each morning as I arose, I would repeat these words: The past is gone and tomorrow may never come…I will live for today.”1
1 Robinson, Michael L. The Existential Voyage. “‘Live For Today.”
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March 21, 1982
Broadcast Number 2,744