Lookin' for that backward walk

(Ok, it's already Thursday where I am; is it still Wednesday anywhere?)

If only we could live all our life with the clarity that comes at the end.

Last week in the two-part finale to The Big Bang Theory as Sheldon finally reached the end of his quest -- a Nobel Prize in Physics, he also came to an epiphany about what was the real strength and meaning of his life.  Not the singular achievement of greatness and everyone's recognition of his unique superiority; but rather the unwarranted acceptance and tolerance of his friends, and the deep unbreakable bond of love and mutual care that had quietly, persistently grown among them, him included.  Rather than feeling entitled, he knew he was indebted.  Instead of feeling rightfully congratulated, he felt deeply grateful.

A clarity of life worth living into.

A few days before that finale, I heard of the death by suicide, almost exactly a year ago, of Scott Hutchison, founding member, lead singer and primary song-writer of the indie Scottish band Frightened Rabbit.  I liked the band from the first time I heard their music -- archetypically moody, Scottish-depressive, self-deprecating.  I felt especially connected with them after Aaron and I saw them at The Horseshoe Tavern in TO maybe ten years ago when they were touring their disc, "The Midnight Organ Fight."

I was not surprised to hear Scott struggled with depression and a sense of inner bleakness.  The news of his death shocked and deeply saddened me, but didn't surprise me.  What most caught me, though, was the two texts or tweets he sent his bandmates and other friends on his way from the pub the night of his death:  "Be so good to everyone you love.  It’s not a given.  I’m so annoyed that it’s not.  I didn’t live by that standard and it kills me.  Please, hug your loved ones" and "I’m away now. Thanks."

A clarity of life worth living into.

If only we could live backward from what we know at the end.  

Or, I wonder, do we really already kind of know what we will know then, and sometimes just don't (or can't) find the courage (or whatever it is) we need to be able to live into it?

Scott, RIP.