morrie said. "everyone knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it."
"the truth is, mitch," he said, "once you learn how
to die, you learn how to live."
i nodded.
"i'm going to say it again," he said. "once you learn
how to die, you learn how to live." he smiled, and i
realized what he was doing. he was making sure i ab-
sorbed this point, without embarrassing me by asking. it
was part of what made him a good teacher.
did you think much about death before you got sick,
i asked.
"no." morrie smiled. "i was like everyone else. i
once told a friend of mine, in a moment of exuberance,
'i'm gonna be the healthiest old man you ever met!' "
how old were you?
"in my sixties."
so you were optimistic.
"why not? like i said, no one really believes they're
going to die."
but everyone knows someone who has died, i said.
why is it so hard to think about dying?
"because," morrie continued, "most of us all walk
around as if we're sleepwalking. we really don't experi-
ence the world fully, because we're half-asleep, doing
things we automatically think we have to do."
and facing death changes all that?
"oh, yes. you strip away all that stuff and you focus
on the essentials. when you realize you are going to die,
you see everything much differently.
he sighed. "learn how to die, and you learn how to
live."