The philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) wrote about so many things...transcendental deduction, self-consciousness, transcendental synthesis, a priori concepts (knowing without experiencing), subjective deduction, thought itself, intuition, the transcendental unity of apperception, principles, the logic of illusion, appearance and reality, phenomena and noumena, pure reason and metaphysics, cosmology, theology, the soul, the categorical imperative, the antimony of freedom, the self, practical reason, autonomy of the will, morality, the role of law, beauty and design and taste, objectivity and contemplation, imagination and freedom, harmony, common sense, form, purpose, teleology, and the divine.

Humbling, no?  What did we do today?  Not this, I'm somewhat certain.

But arguably guiding his many pursuits was one overarching, prevailing framework: his sense of duty.  He utterly and completely devoted himself to a life of scholarship and lived, as we clearly see and know from any accounting of his life, within his head.

His eccentricities were many.  Roger Scruton, a Kantian scholar once wrote, "It is true that Kant's life was, if not mechanical, at least highly disciplined.  His manservant had instructions to wake him each morning at five and tolerate no malingering.  He would work until seven at his desk, dressed in nightcap and robe, changing back into these garments at once when he had returned from his morning lectures.  He remained in his study until one, when he took his single meal of the day, following it, irrespective of the weather, by a walk.  He took this exercise alone, from the eccentric conviction that conversation, since it causes a man to breathe through the mouth, should not take place in the open air.  He was averse to noise, twice changing lodging in order to avoid the sound of other people.  His aversion to music other than military marches was notorious, as was his total indifference to the visual arts -- he possessed only one engraving, a portrait of Rousseau, given to him by a friend."

Ironically -- and most tragically -- Kant died senile.  Isn't that the way it always goes?  Our greatest gift, whether our mind, our physicality, or our relationships seem to be the final tax required to exit this world.  (Just look at NFL runningback Earl Campbell or pugilist Muhammad Ali...Campbell can barely walk and Ali can barely speak.  The strength, speed, and agility of the former and the sassy, quotable comebacks of the latter...gone.)

120 years after Kant's death, his grave was robbed and his sarcophagus left empty.

Indeed, it was likely the pull between Kant's sense of interior morality and external aspirations to fully explore and understand as many otherworldly nooks and crannies as possible that informed his existence, drove his curiousity, and defined his reach.

Despite his many shortcomings and the various clouds spanning the horizon of his life, we should all be so fortunate as to reach as wide, high, and deep.  And to do so while we are still able. 

Whether it's the periodic seven-year-old's question, "Why is the sky blue?" or the executive's inquiry mid-way through a coaching session, "What's your leadership philosophy?" I have always enjoyed the questions we ask too infrequently.  They reveal, after all, much more than the questions we commonly and confidently ask.

I'm not sure when my daughter and I will have more profound conversations about life, but she's already quite the philosopher and riddle solver.  "Why is the word 'men' in the word 'women?'" and "How can God be three things at once?" are two questions she's posed in the last week alone, so I presume the floodgates are creaking.

Perhaps more as an exercise to get myself ready, here are some initial chicken-scratchings in anticipation of the question, "How should I live?"

1. First, be true to yourself.  It is my belief that God designed you uniquely -- strive to be all that you were designed to be, not who others are...or as you presume others expect you to be.

2. Take comfort knowing that while we are all fallen and fallible, redemption is yours.  But don't abdicate or dismiss your responsibilities because of this.  We choose, daily, our attitude and behaviors.  Live the message, don't preach it. 

3. Live a life of integrity.  Seek to be beyond reproach.  It's human nature to judge and throw rocks; live your life as if on the front page, take refuge in those who love you for who you are, and be gracious to all.

4. Focus where you can make a difference, even if it's just one starfish.  Some people don't want or won't accept your offers or gifts or time or talents.  Give them anyway, but wisely and with peace where they are misinterpreted, perverted, or rejected.

5. Avoid the crazymakers, saboteurs, and joy robbers.  Only sadists negotiate with madmen.  They'll drain your lifeblood and you'll be left hollow and jaded.

6. Invest in the eternal and those things which will transcend your generation.  Life's too short to limit your focus to a harvest that ripens within just eighty years.  We benefit from all those who precede us; continue the tradition.

7. Forgive others.  You'll need it too.

8. As my uncle exhorted when I was twelve, "Find what you love to do -- and do the hell out of it."  Again, life's too short to be misspent on pursuits that don't bring fulfillment, contribution, or flat-out joy.

9. Don't live for someone else.  Live that your life might benefit others, but not to the detriment of your own personhood.

10. Do no harm.  Not only because this is right, but because life is a merry-go-round with a reliable sense of reciprocity.  The people you might step on now will surely be your puppetmasters in years to come.  Treat everyone knowing this, not because of strategy or fear, but out of love.

11. Forgive, but forget at your peril.  We are designed to forgive and be forgiven, but learn from your mistakes, avoid the same ones twice, and accumulate wisdom.

12. Where possible, resolve or compartmentalize.  Don't allow anger, regret, spite, hurt, or other emotional leakage to seep into other areas of your life, robbing you of purpose, passion, or the generally elusive contentment.

13. Don't confuse family, love, and strangers.  We often inflict the deepest wounds on those we love and strangers often exhibit the most selflessly breathtaking demonstrations of grace.  Be open yet cautious, hopeful yet realistic, and take comfort that time -- while it rarely heals wounds -- quite reliably brings perspective, which itself is a harbinger of peace.

14. Simple beats elaborate, significance trumps success, and sustainability is more valuable than flash.

15. Take refuge in nature.  The right choices reveal themselves more readily beneath shade trees, on hills, along beaches, deep within the woods, or beside streams.

16. Remember -- love functions like a boomerang.  Most of the time.  Aim high and throw hard.

17. You generally get one bite at the apple; make sure it's an apple...and the right apple.

18. Don't refuse gifts.  Give gifts. 

19. Say "thank you," "please," and "may I?"

20. Hold the door for those behind you.

21. Marry someone who holds the door for you.  And attempts to manage your chair.  And opens the car door.  And insists you order first.  And holds the elevator for strangers.

22. Call an old friend and invite him or her to lunch.

23. Send notes 'out of the blue' acknowledging another person's awesomeness.

24. Don't sweat the small stuff -- really -- in a couple or three years you won't remember worrying about it anyway, much less the 'matter' itself.

25. Spend time with people who make you feel good about yourself; make others feel good about themselves, and don't waste your time on those who maliciously and pathologically and consistently do the converse.

26. Make a home, not a house.

27. Avoid checking your bags whenever possible.

28. Wear comfortable shoes.

29. Take a warm coat, hat, and gloves.  Or a swimsuit.  Whatever you need to enjoy the scenery. 

30. Carry mints or gum...enough for everyone.

31. Know another's culture, let it be, and roll with it.  For example, when in China, never surprise your host by secretly paying for his meal.

32. Balance -- or risk burning out, bowling over, or bowing out by necessity rather than choice.

33. Stretch.

34. Cuddle.

35. Always have a pet.

36. Wear sunscreen.

37. Abhor vanity.  You're beautiful, inside and out.  The more the former, the more the latter.

38. People are vastly more...or less than their titles, degrees, or income tax bracket.  Treat others as if they're worth knowing and they will be.

39. Laugh, cry, hug, pat, dance, jump, run, play, cartwheel, somersault, high kick.  Move your body and it will move you.

40. Expose yourself to things about which you are ignorant or do not understand.  Be insatiably curious and polymathic.  Read the greatest books, study calculus, see a Shakespeare play, attend the opera, play the piano, study aikido, compete in a triathlon, coach a Special Olympics team, give blood, learn another language, ride horses, travel, try new foods, visit wonders of the world and never stop asking, "Why?"

41. Plug in rather than drop out.

42. Take your kids to the zoo.

43. Send your kids to college.  And then, if they wish to attend a culinary institute, or write, or sing, or dance for a living...they can and more fully.

44. Donate.

45. Volunteer.

46. Sacrifice.

47. Accept that the house always wins and be ready to stand up and walk away from the table.  Look forward, never backward.

48. Be disciplined, not lazy.  Prepare, don't wing it.  Stand on the shoulders of your gifts and talents, commit to improve, and work hard to be great.  Never rest on your laurels.

49. Seek to die 'all used up' rather than rich.

50. Understand that true wealth is about choices.  Poverty is about an absence of access to resources that might otherwise change your life.

51. Expect miracles.

52. Enjoy life.

53. Eat well and treat yourself to fine meals every now and then.  There's more to life than fast food. 

54. Order dessert...and think of me.

As I grow older, I am experiencing a number of phenomena that are new -- sometimes altogether foreign to me.  But as they accompany me for months that roll into years, like Stockholm Syndrome or the proverbial shoe-pebble or saddle-burr, they become my begrudged companions.

Amusingly, many of them have to do with my own body.  My barber seems to spend more time in and around my ears, my tummy resists its pants, my joints echo and reverberate throughout the bedroom as I make my way to the restroom each morning, and the pains in my back from years of sports, backpack carrying, weed pulling, and other sundry chores emanate further downward and upward.  (I'm not quite sure whether I have more pains than before, or if my tolerance for pain is eroding.)

On most days, my left elbow barely functions; the 'throw me, Daddy!' repetitions have left me feeling like Bjorn Borg after a lengthy Sunday with McEnroe.

When I rise too quickly after kneeling to write for long periods, the room might very well spin.  Or it might not.  It's a crapshoot...a roulette wheel, after all.

And is it just me, or do headaches accompany aging?  For several months now, I have these temporary moments of great pain in my temples...as if I can literally feel the armada of platelets making their way through my capillaries to feed those twitchy roots growing like itty bitty fronds in my ears.

I was with my daughter at The Container Store several months back and we stumbled across this absurdly large pill box.  Each day of the week was so voluminous it could assuredly house a dozen sugarcubes.  Lauren looked at it, laughed, and commented impishly, "Hey Dad, this would be perfect for you!"  "Um, yeah, sure," was all I could mutter.  Keeping track of my periodic maladies' medications feels equivalent to coordinating traffic flow through the Panama Canal.

Alas, however inconvenient or painful my nominal yet increasing afflictions of the body, they pale in comparison to life's more worthy foes.

Tragically, one of the more sobering trends that accompanies age is the increasing death rate of friends and family.  Forewarnings of this reality come in flavors as innocent, ubiquitous, and pop-cultural as The Lion King's Circle of Life, but this doesn't make acceptance any easier or more welcome.

About every month, my wife and I learn of a dear friend who has passed -- car wreck, cancer, stroke, heart attack.  In the last month alone, several moms and dads have left this world three to four decades prematurely.  There's nothing like a funeral attended by half-orphaned 3, 5, or 7-year olds to cue swelling Smell the Flowers music.

Visited, much like Scrooge by the spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, I too have been reminded by recent events of the primacy of life.  We only get one.  This is not, as they say, the dress rehearsal.

Pain, too, is a great prioritizer.

But regardless the source, the outcome is the same: I have chosen in the last couple years to re-balance my life.  Much less travel, more home-time, and the addition of "no" to my vocabulary have absolutely transformed my existence.  And with my daughter growing a solid foot in the last 18 months, I am certain these choices are the right ones...the only ones.

For all I know, my funeral is next Wednesday.

Far be it from me to wonder when -- better to live as if it's imminent, only to be pleasantly surprised if it's not.

Without question, I would relish the gift of a long, albeit pain-ridden or pock-marked life.  Furry ears?  Gelatinous belly?  Achey back?  Creaky knees?  Joy-robbing elbow?  Bring 'em.  Better them, friends muse, than never getting to experience them.

Better to love, live, and laugh as a stoop-shouldered grandpa at my granddaughter's high school graduation than muscularly roar out of life alone with saddlebags of money strapped to my mid-life Harley.

On the statistically possible offchance that my body or mind unexpectedly give out before my spirit or soul, promise me one thing: you'll give my wife and daughter big 'ol bearhugs and remind 'em that, while Daddy made a ton of mistakes, he always did what he believed to be right.  And he did the best he could at everything he tried.

But most importantly, that he lived a life full of love.