Most people don’t begin to live until they know they’re going to die.
In 1952, Japanese director Akira Kurosawa explored that uncomfortable truth in his film “Ikiru,” which translates “to live.” The film opens with a quiet, devastating fact: Kanji Watanabe is dying. We know it before he does.
Watanabe has spent decades as a bureaucrat — a section chief in a city office — stamping papers, following procedure, preserving order. His wife is dead. He has devoted his life to saving money and providing for his son. He has done what was expected. He has been respectable. Responsible. Safe.
He has also been spiritually absent from his own life.
When he learns he has cancer and has only months to live, he feels hollow. The routines that once filled his days now feel meaningless. He first tries distraction and pleasure. That fails. Then, almost accidentally, he discovers something different: purpose. He throws himself into one small but meaningful public project and finds, at last, a sense of peace.
In the final image we see of him, he sits alone on a swing in the snow, softly singing a song from his youth about how brief life is. It is one of the most haunting scenes ever filmed — not because of tragedy, but because of clarity. He has finally awakened.

Why stay together? There’s nothing united about today’s United States
Do you obey petty rules? Or do you fight The Man in hopes of change?
I don’t claim to know the solution, but the modern church has failed
At times, we have to just wait for the day when we’ll see the fruit
Why waste your one life on political scandal that won’t change anything?
In a cold and disconnected world, it’s very simple to fake happiness
I hate the intense pain, but I don’t know how to live without longing
Once you taste what is possible, you can’t accept being ‘normal’
Words of appreciation can have power to connect us and heal us