Morrie Schwartz used to say that he wanted to be remembered as "a teacher to the last."
Morrie worked as a professor for 35 years, teaching sociology to students at Brandeis University. But in the last year of his life, he taught anyone and everyone -- family, friends, colleagues, journalists -- how to live a meaningful life, and how to die with no regrets. After being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) in the summer of 1994, he decided to make the act of dying another educational opportunity: The living would learn from his experience with death. He belived in the truth,
"once you learn how to die, you learn how to live."
He is best known by the book "Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson" written by one of his former students Mitch Albom. Mitch Albom one of Morries favorite students looses touch with his professor after his graduation. He settles down in his life as sports journalist though he wanted to be a famous musician. And later on he was burried with accomplishments, meeting deadlines at his work.
Albom actually finds out that his old professor is dying when he sees Ted Koppel interviewing Schwartz on "Nightline". Albom bemoans his own life with lines like, "I wrote articles about rich athletes who, for the most part, could not care less for people like me," or "My days were full, yet I remained, much of the time, unsatisfied."
In the process of getting to know himself he regularly meets Morrie on tuesdays.
They used to discuss subjects every tuesdays trying to answer many of the philosophical questions that so many of us ask ourselves (or should be asking ourselves) about life, work, community, relationships, aging, and death. These discussions led to the book "Tuesdays with Morrie", in which Mitch quotes,
"Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back."
If we're all so smart, then why aren't more of us happy? That was a question that Morrie was happy to wrestle with. Happiness, he said, comes from figuring out what gives your life purpose and then devoting yourself with passion to that purpose. For Morrie, that defining passion was teaching. Happiness comes from opening up to people, emotions, and experiences. For Morrie, the key experience was dancing, always dancing. But happiness also comes from knowing and accepting your limitations and imperfections. For Morrie, the key limitation was his body, which grew weaker as ALS limited his ability to walk, to feed himself, to breathe freely.
"Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself?" The biggest mistake that most people make, Morrie said, is being shortsighted. "One hundred and ten years from now no one who is here now will be alive," he wrote. "When you look at it that way, you can see how absurd it is that we individualize ourselves with our fences and hoarded possessions."
If the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it. Create your own. Most people can’t do it.
But Morrie did it. Walks with friends, discussions, reading books, Greenhouse activities, visiting coworkers, having contacts with old students, marvelling the nature ...this was part of his culture.
Laugh at yourself, Morrie urged. Forgive yourself for not doing the things that you should have done. He didn't pine for lost youth: "You know what that reflects? Unsatisfied lives. Unfulfilled lives. Lives that haven't found meaning. Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward."
Much of his advice may seem like common sense. Yet people often fail to act on such common sense, Morrie said, because they're either sleepwalking or sprinting their way through life. Dying provides the kind of clarity that people need earlier in life but usually lack, Morrie said. Why not practice that greater awareness in your daily life now? "We're involved in trillions of little acts just to keep going," he wrote. "So we don't get into the habit of standing back and looking at our lives and saying, Is this all? Is this all I want? Is something missing? ... Dying is only one thing to be sad over.... Living unhappily is something else."
To me books have been my best teachers, "Tuesdays with Morrie" being one among them. This article is almost a translation to the one published in Eenadu paper as a tribute on Teachers Day: Sep 5, Page 4
Also thanks to few of my friends who have been obliquely teachers to me.
"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops."
Morrie worked as a professor for 35 years, teaching sociology to students at Brandeis University. But in the last year of his life, he taught anyone and everyone -- family, friends, colleagues, journalists -- how to live a meaningful life, and how to die with no regrets. After being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) in the summer of 1994, he decided to make the act of dying another educational opportunity: The living would learn from his experience with death. He belived in the truth,
"once you learn how to die, you learn how to live."
He is best known by the book "Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson" written by one of his former students Mitch Albom. Mitch Albom one of Morries favorite students looses touch with his professor after his graduation. He settles down in his life as sports journalist though he wanted to be a famous musician. And later on he was burried with accomplishments, meeting deadlines at his work.
Albom actually finds out that his old professor is dying when he sees Ted Koppel interviewing Schwartz on "Nightline". Albom bemoans his own life with lines like, "I wrote articles about rich athletes who, for the most part, could not care less for people like me," or "My days were full, yet I remained, much of the time, unsatisfied."
In the process of getting to know himself he regularly meets Morrie on tuesdays.
They used to discuss subjects every tuesdays trying to answer many of the philosophical questions that so many of us ask ourselves (or should be asking ourselves) about life, work, community, relationships, aging, and death. These discussions led to the book "Tuesdays with Morrie", in which Mitch quotes,
"Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back."
If we're all so smart, then why aren't more of us happy? That was a question that Morrie was happy to wrestle with. Happiness, he said, comes from figuring out what gives your life purpose and then devoting yourself with passion to that purpose. For Morrie, that defining passion was teaching. Happiness comes from opening up to people, emotions, and experiences. For Morrie, the key experience was dancing, always dancing. But happiness also comes from knowing and accepting your limitations and imperfections. For Morrie, the key limitation was his body, which grew weaker as ALS limited his ability to walk, to feed himself, to breathe freely.
"Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself?" The biggest mistake that most people make, Morrie said, is being shortsighted. "One hundred and ten years from now no one who is here now will be alive," he wrote. "When you look at it that way, you can see how absurd it is that we individualize ourselves with our fences and hoarded possessions."
If the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it. Create your own. Most people can’t do it.
But Morrie did it. Walks with friends, discussions, reading books, Greenhouse activities, visiting coworkers, having contacts with old students, marvelling the nature ...this was part of his culture.
Laugh at yourself, Morrie urged. Forgive yourself for not doing the things that you should have done. He didn't pine for lost youth: "You know what that reflects? Unsatisfied lives. Unfulfilled lives. Lives that haven't found meaning. Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward."
Much of his advice may seem like common sense. Yet people often fail to act on such common sense, Morrie said, because they're either sleepwalking or sprinting their way through life. Dying provides the kind of clarity that people need earlier in life but usually lack, Morrie said. Why not practice that greater awareness in your daily life now? "We're involved in trillions of little acts just to keep going," he wrote. "So we don't get into the habit of standing back and looking at our lives and saying, Is this all? Is this all I want? Is something missing? ... Dying is only one thing to be sad over.... Living unhappily is something else."
To me books have been my best teachers, "Tuesdays with Morrie" being one among them. This article is almost a translation to the one published in Eenadu paper as a tribute on Teachers Day: Sep 5, Page 4
Also thanks to few of my friends who have been obliquely teachers to me.
"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops."
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