Devour your life

Mama always told me

Not to look into the sights

Of the sun

Oh but mama

That’s where the fun is

- Bruce Springsteen

A couple of weeks ago, Julie and I drove to Cincinnati for her uncle’s funeral. I didn’t know him well, but from all accounts, Ken Segal led a full and fulfilling life. He had a loving family and solid friendships, developed a successful real estate business and traveled across the globe.

And during her beautiful eulogy to her dad, Julie’s cousin Sara pointed out one of Ken’s mantras:

Devour your life.

Devour your life. Isn’t that powerful?

Man, that phrase struck me hard, and really made me think. At first blush, it feels harsh, so aggressive. But I also found myself immediately asking whether I do enough of it.

As Sara spoke, I took a few deep breaths and looked around me. I realized how gorgeous that chapel was. And it really was stunning. I hadn’t noticed that before. I looked at the faces of the people around me. I took in their heartache and the grief in their eyes, and gave some consideration to the stories they might have shared with Ken. I breathed in the cool air, deeply.

All my senses heightened.

The more I consider it, the more I dig the ferocity, the intensity of that word: devour. It woke me up. Don’t get me wrong. I know it’s a lot. But it’s also vigorous and demanding and urgent and alive. I mean, before I heard that phrase, I was there, taking in the moment. But only to an extent. Devouring ups the ante, begs you to not just be physically present, but to be fully, 100% engaged. And awake. And hungry in all the best ways.

It’s living big.

And in my interpretation, I’m not talking about having the most money, or driving the most expensive car. Although, if that’s what devouring means to you, run with that. But I picture devouring every note of the music, every step of the run, every sip of the coffee and every moment of the downtime.

I had to ask myself, why was I so affected by this little phrase?

Well, it struck me because life is so brief, and precious, and fleeting. Does anything short of devouring every moment do the magic that is our one beautiful life justice?

Devouring in practice

Since Ken’s funeral, I’ve considered this phrase every day. I’ve brought it into my life, and into my work. I can imagine I’m annoying some of my clients. Again, devouring. It’s a lot.

Part of the point is that, far too often, I think we half-ass our lives. We take our precious time for granted. We become numb to the miracle that we ourselves are, that everyone around us is, every living thing, the entire world. It’s a pretty fucking grand thing just to be alive, to have a heart beating in your chest. To make eye-to-eye contact with another human being and feel a connection.

And it’s pretty hard to get a feel for any of that when you’re scrolling through Instagram.

So I’m gonna share a few thoughts about what devouring life means to me.

Part of it is quite literal. For example, we were with friends recently, and Julie pointed out that, whenever she offers me something to eat, my immediate reply is “No!” I don’t give it any thought, I just deprive myself. That’s not devouring. That’s stepping back.

That’s starving.

And if I’m being totally honest, food is a good example. I too often eat out of necessity and expediency. Food to me is a task, so I rarely stop to consider taste, to feel gratitude for a meal itself.

Another part of devouring my life is doing more of the things and saying yes more often to the potential joys in my life. So, devouring life for me is seeing the play, listening intently to the music, taking in the outdoors, pressing myself on a workout or a run. It’s leaning forward to take in the stories of my clients, and pushing my own envelope when it comes to collaborations and solutions.

It’s also loving my family and friends with ever-greater abandon and openness. It’s telling the people I love that I love them. It’s showing up with love and energy and enthusiasm, even on a down day. Even if I’m not totally feeling it. Here’s where I think faking it until you make it actually works.

Part of devouring life, I think, is also doing all you can to overcome the power drain of negative thinking. That can be meditation, exercise, therapy, whatever drives those negative thoughts, especially those about yourself, out of your mind.

Those who devour life are not timid. They are bold and, if not fearless, they face those fears head-on. Devouring your life has a hint of good trouble in it. Enough risk and danger and excitement to get your blood pumping.

I heard a comedian say recently that the butterflies of the stage, that fear, is the most alive you can feel. You’re on the tightrope, risking it all. And that’s the best place to be. Feeling comfortable, he suggested, is over-rated. Feeling alive is the goal. I feel that.

Why devouring matters

We’re sitting in an interesting cultural moment. So many of us can live our lives passively. Dullness comes easily. We can work from home while binge-watching. We can ask robots to write our stories. We lived through a pandemic during which life-devouring was not a priority, but a prohibition.

So much of the culture, social media and politics and reality TV and all the other noise of life today are power drains. So many of us, young people in particular, are horizontal far too much of the time, passively whiling away time, quietly waiting for life to happen.

And frankly, as you might expect, I’m particularly concerned about our kids. We haven’t modeled the living life to the fullest idea for them very well. And barring that, many of them are left wholly uninspired. They’re not excited, not hopeful, not even oriented toward the future.

So, it’s on us to be the fire, the inspiration, to model devouring life.

Devouring life: A beginner’s course

If this idea appeals to you at all, I would challenge you to take a minute, right now, and put down your phone, or close your computer. Give 30 seconds to each of your five senses, and just take in the world around you.

I’m practicing this myself in this moment. It’s a gorgeous day here in Chicago, and I am looking out over our stunning city and mighty Lake Michigan. The air smells fresh and clean. I can hear lively chatter and barking dogs. After a very good run, my body feels appropriately, exhausted, sweaty, and a little gross.

I’m hungry.

And with that, I feel like I’m here. That alone feels like a pretty damn good primer. Just being here, now. I’ll admit to you that I’m not great at this exercise. But I know I will appreciate my time a little more today.

I just caught myself smiling.

Next, I would encourage you to just consider your plans for the days ahead, maybe for this Fall. Think about areas where you might want to press a little harder, live a little larger.

Make big decisions. Don’t decide what you can’t do. Push yourself. Raise your bar. Meet it. Surprise yourself, and raise it again.

I know this might read like a lot of rah rah bs, but this idea really struck me. So I wanted to share it, and allow you an opportunity to feel it as well. Devour your life cuts through a lot of objections, and for me, drives a rather immediate boost in positivity, energy and optimism and action.

I talk a lot about modeling, and this is no exception. Again, if this sounds appealing to you, I know enough of our kids to know that they need some life devouring. Because a lot of them tell me that this life, they just aren’t feeling it. It’s brutal to hear. And believe me, just telling them to engage more doesn’t work. Showing them, on the other hand, that works.

About a month before he passed, Julie reached out to her uncle. They talked about family and life and art. At one point, she asked him, “Do you want visitors?”

Ken answered, “Yes! I’m trying to stay alive!”

I’ve been hanging on that line. Not everybody who’s dying has the ability, consciousness, or wherewithal to make such a proclamation. But what a thing to be able to say, right?

I know my time is limited. Really, really limited.

So I’m going to devour every minute I’ve got left.

Devouring your life. What a way to die. And what way to live.