By Lee Hyon-soo
Unlike other animals roaming planet Earth, we, human beings, are keenly aware of the fact that we cannot escape death. To know that we are to die may be the greatest cause of our agony. I do not remember how old I was when the idea of the inevitability of death hit me like a tornado. After that, I had a sense of futility which deadened all emotions. Indeed, it took me a very long time to resign myself to mortality and regain my peace of mind.
To overcome the fear of death, many people turn to religion, which promises eternal life. Religion serves a useful purpose as it enables the faithful to live with a positive outlook on life. But skeptics dismiss the idea of life after death. They think that they shall become extinct for good after they take their last breath.
An extreme form of skepticism is nihilism. Nihilists believe that existence is senseless and useless. Some of them say that if they had had a choice, they would have chosen not to be born.
As I see it, however, nothing is more precious than life. Indeed, it was a stroke of good fortune that I was born against all the odds. As I only live once, all I can do is to make the best of my limited time on planet Earth, that is, to live as full a life as possible.
So far I have done what I could as a career banker, the head of a family, and a respectable member of the society to which I belong ― to the best of my ability. In the greater scheme of things, however, I did not amount to much; I did not make a difference to the world. Either I was not cut out for that or I did not aim high enough. Does that mean that my life has been meaningless? I think not.
I am "part of the stream of life flowing on from the first germ to the remote and unknown future," as Bertrand Russell put it in his book titled, "The Conquest of Happiness." Had it not been for me, my offspring would not have come into the world. Indeed, I served as a vital link in an unending chain of lives. I am filled with a sense of fulfillment when I see my son and daughter live happily with their own children.
It is said that age is nothing but a number or that nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. But I take these sayings as mere rhetoric. In my late 70s, I do feel my age. I know I look every bit my age, too.
I do not know when my life clock will stop ticking. But I do not waste time, dwelling on it. Instead, I relish each day as it comes, doing things and going places, as I please.
When the time comes for me to depart from this world, I will go without kicking, screaming or crying ― with the comforting thought that part of me will live on through my children, my children's children and so on.
I want to age gracefully. What I dread most is that, as I get older, I may develop Alzheimer's disease or become incapacitated and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I wish that my life may end peacefully without becoming a burden on my family or society. My wish may or may not be granted. If anything, this uncertainty worries me.
The writer (tomhslee43@gmail.com) is a freelance columnist and the author of "Tales of a Korean Globetrotter."
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To overcome the fear of death, many people turn to religion, which promises eternal life. Religion serves a useful purpose as it enables the faithful to live with a positive outlook on life. But skeptics dismiss the idea of life after death. They think that they shall become extinct for good after they take their last breath.
An extreme form of skepticism is nihilism. Nihilists believe that existence is senseless and useless. Some of them say that if they had had a choice, they would have chosen not to be born.
As I see it, however, nothing is more precious than life. Indeed, it was a stroke of good fortune that I was born against all the odds. As I only live once, all I can do is to make the best of my limited time on planet Earth, that is, to live as full a life as possible.
So far I have done what I could as a career banker, the head of a family, and a respectable member of the society to which I belong ― to the best of my ability. In the greater scheme of things, however, I did not amount to much; I did not make a difference to the world. Either I was not cut out for that or I did not aim high enough. Does that mean that my life has been meaningless? I think not.
I am "part of the stream of life flowing on from the first germ to the remote and unknown future," as Bertrand Russell put it in his book titled, "The Conquest of Happiness." Had it not been for me, my offspring would not have come into the world. Indeed, I served as a vital link in an unending chain of lives. I am filled with a sense of fulfillment when I see my son and daughter live happily with their own children.
It is said that age is nothing but a number or that nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. But I take these sayings as mere rhetoric. In my late 70s, I do feel my age. I know I look every bit my age, too.
I do not know when my life clock will stop ticking. But I do not waste time, dwelling on it. Instead, I relish each day as it comes, doing things and going places, as I please.
When the time comes for me to depart from this world, I will go without kicking, screaming or crying ― with the comforting thought that part of me will live on through my children, my children's children and so on.
I want to age gracefully. What I dread most is that, as I get older, I may develop Alzheimer's disease or become incapacitated and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I wish that my life may end peacefully without becoming a burden on my family or society. My wish may or may not be granted. If anything, this uncertainty worries me.
The writer (tomhslee43@gmail.com) is a freelance columnist and the author of "Tales of a Korean Globetrotter."
