Weary of routine life, and jaded with the status quo, I often indulge in fantasy escapes where I trade lives with folks, who for me, epitomize "living" and not just "breathing"! Anthony Bourdain 'was' one such personality. I lived vicariously as he traveled to remote corners, tasted unique cuisines, and made friends with the locals. Wow - that is being alive, I thought.
Waking up to morning alarms has long been replaced by CNN news alerts. And June 8, 2018, was no different. I looked at the breaking news and jumped out of the bed in disbelief. Anthony Bourdain is dead. And he 'took' his life. I pinched myself to ensure I was awake. Anthony B had nothing to live for, or look forward to? The man, who for me, was the definition of 'being alive'. Shocked, and perplexed, I was too numb to react. I remember rereading the lines doubting if I was comprehending this correctly.
As the media analyzed the reasons behind his choice to end his life, interviews of him and his close friends surfaced; soon there was a deluge of articles unmasking the 'optics' of a seemingly perfect life. He was tired of living out of suitcases, felt rootless and what struck me most was all his friendships with strangers had a shelf life of a week or so. Then he was off to a new place, met new people, and formed new friendships. I have always been fond of strangers, they don't come with past baggage and it always feels like a fresh start. But then we find comfort in familiarity; if life came with a reset button every fortnight, that wouldn't be pleasant. So I guess Anthony Bourdain's exotic life craved mundane normalcy. Simple things like sipping coffee from a familiar mug, reading the news in his favorite armchair, and greeting the same doorman on his way out to work.
Waking up to morning alarms has long been replaced by CNN news alerts. And June 8, 2018, was no different. I looked at the breaking news and jumped out of the bed in disbelief. Anthony Bourdain is dead. And he 'took' his life. I pinched myself to ensure I was awake. Anthony B had nothing to live for, or look forward to? The man, who for me, was the definition of 'being alive'. Shocked, and perplexed, I was too numb to react. I remember rereading the lines doubting if I was comprehending this correctly.
As the media analyzed the reasons behind his choice to end his life, interviews of him and his close friends surfaced; soon there was a deluge of articles unmasking the 'optics' of a seemingly perfect life. He was tired of living out of suitcases, felt rootless and what struck me most was all his friendships with strangers had a shelf life of a week or so. Then he was off to a new place, met new people, and formed new friendships. I have always been fond of strangers, they don't come with past baggage and it always feels like a fresh start. But then we find comfort in familiarity; if life came with a reset button every fortnight, that wouldn't be pleasant. So I guess Anthony Bourdain's exotic life craved mundane normalcy. Simple things like sipping coffee from a familiar mug, reading the news in his favorite armchair, and greeting the same doorman on his way out to work.
We take these for granted. Yet they are an essential part of our lives.
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