Read the full op-ed, Savoring life on earth – while I keep my nuclear survival kit ready, published in the San Francisco Chronicle on Oct. 9, 2017.

by Susan Gluss

As president Trump belittles “rocket man” and imperils the nuclear agreement with Iran, I can’t help but think about the end of life as we know it. Literally.

I’m not the only one who’s skittish. The Nobel Peace Prize was just awarded to a group that wants to ban nuclear weapons — a welcome warning.

Ever the pragmatist, I’ve started stockpiling water. I’ve stored a survival kit by the front door with a checklist of items: dried food, a first aid kit and sneakers. Happily, this works as an earthquake stash, too, which reassures me no end.

As I skirt fear of an apocalypse — it brings into sharp relief a conundrum that’s haunted me for years: What is our life’s purpose?

Is it to eradicate worldwide poverty, plagues and famine? To seek spiritual enlightenment? To educate the masses or build shelters for the homeless? All are noble tasks and all are in desperate need.

But as the unthinkable approaches, I reflect less on purpose — and more on life itself. It’s the little moments: The sound of the surf on the beach. A glance out my window on a sunny day. The flitting of a hummingbird’s wings near my porch flowers.

I begin to believe that, all along, our purpose has been simply to live. To feel the breath course through our lungs. To live in awe of — and to protect — our planet. And to ensure that future generations have the same chance at life as we did.

The political noise obscures the fact that we are simply human, an animal species whose time is limited. We are the lucky few born into a cosmos stretching across billions of light-years. We are but a speck in the universe. It’s a humbling thought.

And now we have to contemplate nuclear war? Are we about to squander the one shot we had at life on Earth?

No doubt, our purpose is to rectify the harms we’ve caused as best we can. But it’s also to breathe deeply and savor life itself. Before it’s gone.