Submitted for your approval, the final words that Doctor Who uttered while in a body that resembled the actor Peter Capaldi. These nearly four months later, I’m still not convinced that truer words have ever been said:
“Oh, there it is: Silly old universe. The more I save it, the more it needs saving. It’s a treadmill! Yes, yes, I know they’ll get it all wrong without me …
Well, I suppose … one more lifetime won’t kill anyone. Well, except me.
You wait a moment, Doctor. Let’s get it right. I’ve got a few words to say to you. Basic stuff first:
Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. And never eat pears!
Remember: Hate is always foolish. Love is always wise.
Always try to be nice, and never fail to be kind.
Oh, and you mustn’t tell anyone your name. No one would understand it anyway, except – except – children. Children can hear it. Sometimes, if their hearts are in the right place and the stars are, too, children can hear your name. But nobody else. Nobody else. Ever.
Laugh hard! Run fast! Be kind!
Doctor … I let you go.”
(From “Twice Upon a Time,” written by Steven Moffat)
Do you feel that, smell that, hear the sound of your lungs filling? Take it all in, all of that air filled with icicles or sunshine or cut grass and lilacs – fill every corner of your lungs – that’s it, breathe in, keep going, those miraculous balloons have a lot of space.
Now: All that is inside you, from every corner of your soul, let it go! Send it winging to its next destination. Share who you are and what you are and make the world a better place. You have so much to to offer us; you have an entire universe of life to share that never was before and never will be again once you’re gone.
Reading an essay about the legendary rebel Malcolm Reynolds, a thought occurs to me about war and rebellion and human nature.
“I must write about that,” I says to myself, I says, “after I finish reading.”
But when I finish reading, the insight eludes me like the plot of a memorable dream. I scan through the essay again, hoping the words will re-ignite my imagination, but the thought is gone.
Next time, I guess, I’ll leave pen and paper nearby.
But I always have pen and a pad in my shirt pocket.
Next time, I guess, I’ll stop and pull out the pen and paper.
Stop what you’re doing and memorialize that random thought, else it returns to wherever it came from.