Death by carrot: a life of no (or few) regrets.

My gravestone inscription: “The carrot is mightier than the sword.” Charbel Zeaiter Died 9th January 2024 (Spoiler alert: I didn’t die.)

Not quite the heroic, fanfare-receiving, obit-worthy death that I’ve often fantasised about.

(Spoiler alert: I didn’t die.)

As I do almost every day, I have a few raw vegetables near me for when I feel peckish as I’m working. Almost every day, not all. After tearing my meniscus a few months back, I took the liberty of replacing my post-gym morning jog with the most obvious of activities: a walk to my favourite patisserie for a pastry and a double espresso.

Now that I’m back in the full swing of client work for my digital agency and putting the final touches on my education company platform (I’m punctuating with learning Spanish and getting back into proper training), I felt it’s best to ditch the pastries for the raw vegetable snacks. My scales told me so.

Yesterday was one of those days where, in Kate Bush’s words, “I just know that something good is gonna happen.”  After my 5:30am gym session, brisk post-workout walk and a morning beach swim, I got myself home, showered, had breakfast and then got present to one of the more deliciously complex UX problems that we’re solving for a new client.

An hour in, I felt peckish.

“Hello fridge, what treats shall I take back to my desk?” A second passes, “Oh, carrots.”

That’s right, Christmas is over and my scales are screaming at me. Besides, a torn meniscus doesn’t justify my penchant for a daily pastry (or two).

I took a smug bite into a fresh, crispy, raw, unpeeled carrot. I chewed. And chewed again. And again. And again. A second bite. Repeat mastication. Halfway through gnawing on this fiendish carrot, I coughed and swallowed at the same time, then a piece of this Daucus sativus lodged somewhere between my upper throat and my stomach. Had I paid more attention in my biology class all those centuries ago, I’d have been able to describe a more precise location.

I couldn’t breathe. Seriously, I couldn’t breathe.

And then they started; the futile gasps for air, the runny nose, the heaving stomach, the flowing lacrimal glands. I tried washing it down with water, alas, my body didn’t like that at all, so the heaving intensified and the feign attempts at expunging began.

I ran to the kitchen sink to try a Heimlich manoeuvre on myself. But the sink was full of greens for tonight’s dinner. (You do wash your greens, right? 🐛) So I ran to the laundry sink and ..: I realised I couldn’t do the Heimlich manoeuvre. Gasp-coughing, eyes watering. Couldn’t throw up. Couldn’t breathe. Nothing worked.

For a few moments I was genuinely scared. Not the unfounded arachnophobic type of fear when I see a spider half a kilometre away. Real fear. I don’t want to die. Not yet, perhaps not ever.

I sat down, still unable to breathe properly; luckily my nasal passages had cleared. I tried more water but my body responded the same way, this time to the bathroom sink.

As I slowly breathed my way back to the land of the living, I calmed a little.

Disappointment swept over me.

I was expecting a flash of inspiration or a life-pivoting epiphany. But all I got was “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” by ABBA echoing in my head? Seriously Agnetha and Anni-Frid; I’m dying. Perhaps I was waiting for someone to beg ”don’t go towards the light…” But all I could think of was the number of projects I’m juggling and how much I love what I do.

Weird, right?

Surely Bronnie Ware’s research into 5 top regrets of the dying would have featured? Nope. Not one. Nada.

This got me thinking about life and purpose.

I’m blessed with solid connections to family, friends and my local community. I have regular catch-ups and coaching sessions with wonderful friends who push me towards being better.

I’m working on 3 businesses and projects that I genuinely love and care for.

Although carrying a few extra almond croissants around my midsection, I’m fit and healthy.

I recognise that I’m bathing in privilege- living in Australia (summer!).

I eat well and know how to cook, I’m a lifelong learner, I’m loved and supported and I get to choose my direction, both personally and professionally.

So what about the regrets? What would I regret if I had the luxury of reflection before I depart this mortal coil?

Here are Bronnie Ware’s top 5 regrets of the dying, and how/if they apply to me:

I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

Nope. I’m blessed to have the will, my wits, a structure and the safety of community to be able to continually peel back the layers and uncover more of who I am. It’s a privilege, indeed a luxury to ponder and reflect.

I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.

Nope. I work hard and I’m happy to do so. I love what I do and I’ve learned that the constant treadmill of productivity is a version of death anyway, so regular time out is part of my structure.

I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Yeah nah. I talk a lot. Not necessarily publicly about the minutiae of my life, but I’m not afraid to cry. I did when Kurt Cobain died. I cry at the movies. Songs make me cry. I feel. I express love, I’ll always choose hugs over handshakes and if I don’t verbalise frustration, my face becomes my spokesperson.

I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Ah the ebbs and flows of relationships. Reasons, seasons and lifetimes. I oscillate between high engagement and hermitage. No regrets there.

I wish that I had let myself be happier.

Actually, that’s one that stings a little. When times are challenging, I find it difficult to appreciate the many blessings and privileges that I have. Even when times feel as though I’m invincible, I dare not allow genuine happiness to seep in, for fear that I may judge myself as conceited.

There’s another current living regret I have (and it won’t be for long!) Traveling more. I love travel and my list of places to visit/live/love in is an impossible list to tick off with any meaning. Yet I’ve traveled extensively. Still, I crave more experiences where I get to immerse myself in unfamiliar cultures.

Meanwhile, I keep working at the work that matters most to me:

• Faster Zebra, my education company (courses starting soon)

• Velvet Onion & Friends, my digital agency

• Planet Neo/Alt Saints - games and immersive experiences returning this year

What do you wish for yourself?

What about you? If you had to reflect on life as it is, what are you grateful for?

Are any of those 5 regrets (6, including my addition) part of your current reality?

As for me, carrots will still feature in my diet, but they’ll be cooked.

What time does the patisserie open?

AI generated image: Gravestone lined with fresh carrots.