At coffee break the other day I was asked about my bucket list; the things I want to do before I die. My answer — that I don’t have a bucket list, and had no plans to create one — was met with disapproval from everyone around. I tried to explain myself, but I was hopelessly outnumbered; fortunately, nobody can talk over me while I’m writing my blog posts…
I don’t understand the need to formulate a bucket list to ensure I accomplish a catalog of items ‘before I pass away.’ I’m quite certain that after I’m dead it won’t really matter to me what activities I’ve completed. The important thing, for me, is to enjoy life as I’m living it and make it as pleasant for others as I can (there are undoubtedly people who would question that, but I insist it’s true); some days are easier than others, but that’s what makes life interesting. I understand the obsession with thrill-seeking and stimulation of the senses, but I find that slowing down to appreciate each moment yields greater satisfaction. To me, slowing down and being conscious of this moment, right now, is living a full life; life is not about how many activities I am able to chalk up before the end.
If you enjoy travelling to Paris, or if bungee-jumping turns you on, all the power to you; have fun, and enjoy the moment. And yes, there are things that I’d like to do too (the Paris trip sounds good; bungee-jumping isn’t my cup o’ tea), but I don’t feel a compulsion. I think that a ‘bucket list’ is another way of avoiding the here and now. It focuses the mind on the future, to the next ‘event of importance.’ I enjoy experiences as much as the next person, but I enjoy them in the moment, I don’t believe that creating a list that must be ticked off one-by-one will make my life any better: for me, a bucket list would be an unhealthy craving list. But my thoughts seem to be in the minority, so I searched my mind, questioning why: perhaps my ‘oddness’ has its roots in childhood…
For months, when I was five or six years old, I remember looking forward to Christmas with a fervent, youthful zeal; Christmas day was such a magical time, filled with family togetherness, presents, unique scents, and bubbling joy. The build-up to the day was almost excruciatingly exciting. And then the day came; I was filled with a peak of stimulation, and then it was suddenly over, and I felt an odd sense of emptiness. Something was wrong with me. That feeling stuck in my mind and I struggled for a long, long time before I recognized the futility of looking forward to things with such an intensity of will: it wasn’t healthy for my state of being.
Maybe everyone is not like me; perhaps a bucket list provides structure and enjoyment to other people’s lives; but please, don’t expect me to create a list…
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db johnston
almost falling 