“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” ~Mark Twain

A dear friend of mine is dying.

Not to be morbid about it, but, well, we are all of us dying, to some degree, every day, inching inexorably towards our time of departure from this physical life, the exact moment of our flight as yet unknown.

But in his case, the timeline is known: four to six months. Liver and bone cancer.

He has decided to take what time remains and live without invasive treatments and poisonous injections.

I spent a day with him recently. He says he is ready, unafraid, and wants to spend what energy he has focusing on the things that are truly important to him in the time remaining to him.

He has put aside any petty inconveniences and lingering grievances; his peace about it all—his open-armed acceptance—shines through his eyes and is magnified by his words.

I believe him.

Because this man has lived a conscious life. A creative life. A life aware.

I will miss his life for the rest of mine.

Brings to mind the wise words the poet Khalil Gibran once penned: “For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”

And the knowledge of his impending departure has nudged me to examine my own readiness in case of an unannounced flight: Am I ready; are my bags packed?

My own father suffered a stroke and was gone in a moment, at age 63. I miss him still.

I don’t have an answer. Yet. But even asking the question forces increased consciousness, sometimes uncomfortably so, and I think there’s value in considering it.

Are you ready?

Because to really live—not to travel, or party, or fill your days with busy-ness, but rather to live aware while still breathing—is better than one day wishing you had.

My dad—and my friend—was a woodworker who always said, “clean as you go.”

Smart; makes the exit easier, gentler, and more joyful.