Thursday, October 1, 2026
Imagine yourself in your final hour. You’ve already made peace with dying. You’re ready, you’re fine with it. Now think about your mortgage. Think about your rent. Think about your credit card debt. Think about your past. Think about all those plans. Does it matter – at your “final” hour?
If I were in my last hour, I’d say to hell with it. I wouldn’t worry about taxes. I wouldn’t give a crap about the rent or the mortgage or that stupid thing I did 25 years ago or the invitations I’d sent out for that party next month. I’d totally leave it, and my estate, and all my goods and wares.
That’s what it means to transcend, to be in your “final hour,” forever. At that point, it’s all done. The dishes are dirty, or neatly put away – who cares? When I walked through my best friend’s house, the night after he died, I was there alone. Everything was as he left it. All just – there.
He left his debt, his cats, his undeposited checks, his dirty underwear in the laundry room, his uneaten Christmas cookies, his used mugs, his coats draped over the chair, and the radio on in the kitchen. His clocks ticked. He left his computer and Christmas tree lights on.
He left. And he left us his “leftovers.”
Just leave it. It’s leftovers. Leave the absurdity. Leave it to care for itself. Leave your concerns and worries. Leave your undeposited checks, dirty underwear, and unpaid bills. Does it matter?
If this were your final hour, then what’s nagging you – your next hour?
Leave it. Life’s too short to concern yourself with leftovers. Make peace with death, go there and leave the dirty panties on the floor, and the coats draped on the chairs.
Overcome and be done.