Suck the Marrow Out of Life

The most precious thing is something you can never own.

Licensed from Adobe Stock

Baz Luhrman, the songwriter who composed “Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen,” once said that life is what happens to you on an idle Tuesday afternoon. 

One moment, you’re cruising down a busy highway, listening to tunes, and the next, well, that’s the focus of this letter to you.

The mountains aren’t the only ones calling.

I recently returned from a weeklong visit to Grand Teton National Park, where my partner and I hiked through the spectacular wilderness, photographed the wildlife and scenery, and enjoyed life to the fullest.

Most of the time, we had zero cell phone service, which was a welcome respite. After finishing a long hike at a high elevation, I turned on my phone to check the weather forecast. Within minutes, my dermatologist called.

Two weeks prior, I had several spots on my face biopsied, which had been a regular occurrence over the past two decades. These spots had always come back either benign or as a non-threatening form of cancer called basal cells. Not this time.

“John, this is Dr. Anderson, I have your biopsy results–is now a good time?” 

The bell tolls.

My heart skipped half a beat because my doctor was calling (it was 6:00 p.m. her time), not one of her assistants.

“Yes, now it is fine. We just finished hiking in the Tetons,” I replied.

“I hate sharing this news with you while you’re in such a beautiful place, but I thought you needed to hear sooner than later. The biopsy came back as positive for Merkel Cells, an extremely rare and aggressive form of cancer.” 

I immediately sensed the temptation to let my mind go into a very dark place at warp speed, and if I didn’t catch it, I would be a mess.

I asked,

“What are Merkel Cells, and are they life threatening?”

There was a perceptible pause in her response as if she was gathering her thoughts.

“Merkel Cells are almost always fatal if not treated. They will metastasize, most commonly to the nearest lymph nodes. You will need to be seen by a specialist, so I am referring you to the Moffett Cancer Center in Tampa.”

That was a lot to absorb in a few minutes. At that point in my sixty-seven-year life, I was keenly aware of my most priceless resource - time.

Time, sweet time.

I wanted as much time to do the things I loved. I wanted to continue to write, but not superficial, click-bait drivel. I wanted to write from the heart.

More importantly, I had more love I wanted to give, and to give it, I needed time.

Nothing is more valuable than time.

Nothing.

Without time, you do not see your children and grandchildren grow up. 

You don’t get to dance with your granddaughter at her wedding. 

You don’t get to hold your spouse or partner close as you drift off to sleep together.

And you don’t get to write about what happiness really means.

 You don’t get to share the writing that is your art and your love with people who might truly be inspired by them. 

It tolls for all of us.

I don’t know yet how my diagnosis is going to unfold. But the word ‘cancer’ has a way of seeping into your consciousness. It’s like a bell ringing in your ears.

For whom does the bell toll, Hemingway asked.

It tolls for all of us. 

In his iconic novel, Hemingway argues that we are all interconnected. Your life affects mine, and mine affects yours. I understand that connectedness to be a sacred responsibility, especially for writers.

Writers release words into the wind that disperse like seeds from mighty sequoias amid raging wildfires. We don’t know where they will end up or whose lives they might impact. But those seeds will die within us if we don’t write them.

I like the power of that visual image - seeds floating softly on the breeze. Sequoias only release their seeds from their tiny pine cones when encroached by fire. Isn’t that what a cancer diagnosis is?

Suck the marrow out of your life.

I will use this wildfire burning within me to share the seeds of my writing with the world. Each seed bears a gift I want to share with those I love and those I have yet to love. 

What do you want to do with the time you have left? Do not wait until you get a phone call like the one I received to “seize the day.”

In the memorable film Dead Poets Society, the English teacher, Mr. Keating, played by Robin Williams, recites a phrase written by Henry David Thoreau…

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

I want you to follow Thoreau’s advice and use the time given to you to suck the marrow out of your life. 

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