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You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/sep/15/forget-the-bucket-list-these-are-the-things-you-should-avoid-before-you-die
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| Forget the bucket list: these are the things you should avoid before you die | Forget the bucket list: these are the things you should avoid before you die |
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| The New Yorker’s Rebecca Mead has a point: it’s time to kick the bucket list to the curb. She writes: | |
| [The bucket list] is the YOLO-ization of cultural experience, whereby the pursuit of fleeting novelty is granted greater value than a patient dedication to an enduring attention – an attention which might ultimately enlarge the self, and not just pad one’s experiential résumé. The notion of the bucket list legitimizes this diminished conception of the value of repeated exposure to art and culture. Rather, it privileges a restless consumption, a hungry appetite for the new. I’ve seen Stonehenge. Next? | [The bucket list] is the YOLO-ization of cultural experience, whereby the pursuit of fleeting novelty is granted greater value than a patient dedication to an enduring attention – an attention which might ultimately enlarge the self, and not just pad one’s experiential résumé. The notion of the bucket list legitimizes this diminished conception of the value of repeated exposure to art and culture. Rather, it privileges a restless consumption, a hungry appetite for the new. I’ve seen Stonehenge. Next? |
| Thinking about my own most transformative moments, I can’t identify one which I had specifically sought to make me feel more alive. Bungee jumping was fun, sure, and running a half marathon gave me a nice sense of accomplishment. But the moments I will remember on my death bed – those which made me feel honoured to be alive – came at unexpected times: laying down on a parking lot patch of grass at night with a lover; picking up an unpromising book only to be jolted by how it spoke to me at a specific time in my life; an old 1990s song serendipitously playing during a night drive; eating my grandmother’s last batch of apricot jam after she died; love-making that suddenly turned into a true communion. | Thinking about my own most transformative moments, I can’t identify one which I had specifically sought to make me feel more alive. Bungee jumping was fun, sure, and running a half marathon gave me a nice sense of accomplishment. But the moments I will remember on my death bed – those which made me feel honoured to be alive – came at unexpected times: laying down on a parking lot patch of grass at night with a lover; picking up an unpromising book only to be jolted by how it spoke to me at a specific time in my life; an old 1990s song serendipitously playing during a night drive; eating my grandmother’s last batch of apricot jam after she died; love-making that suddenly turned into a true communion. |
| In this kicking-the-bucket-list spirit, I asked colleagues and readers to share tried and tested experiences which are routinely added to wish lists but should be avoided at all costs. Think of it as a time-saving exercise for anyone considering swimming with dolphins to be a life-affirming idea. | In this kicking-the-bucket-list spirit, I asked colleagues and readers to share tried and tested experiences which are routinely added to wish lists but should be avoided at all costs. Think of it as a time-saving exercise for anyone considering swimming with dolphins to be a life-affirming idea. |