Only wolves and lions eat alone, you should not eat, not even a snack, on your own. – Epicurus
For years, millions of viewers shared the pleasures of travel and dining with Anthony and, although he didn’t know them, many of us felt him as a friend thanks to the familiarity and intimacy of the dining experience.
Was Anthony an Epicurean? Or at least a hedonist of some sort? Not in the end, but he did have strong hedonist tendencies, and instinctively understood many elements of the art of the good life. He outspokenly rejected the false and intangible hopes of religiosity, choosing instead the tangible pleasures that nature makes available. He understood the importance of friendship and familiarity. He reveled in the senses. He had been a thrill-seeker (some say a “bad ass”), and had the good fortune of being allowed a unique opportunity to learn to tame this tendency and channel it into the adventures and travel that ended up on the screen.
“Your body is not a temple, it’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.” – Anthony Bourdain
Death is nothing to us. But at the same time, life is everything to us, and taking one’s life is an irreversible decision that remains shocking, when the person has so much to live for. Anthony was not on his deathbed. He was not suffering at the final stages of a terminal disease, or lying in a battlefield in agony waiting to die. His struggles with addiction might have been an indication of continued mental health issues, but those were buried in his past. In more recent times, he had publicly acknowledged that he had the best job in the world. This is why his death is so shocking, and feels like a waste of an amazing life. But I, for one, will remember him for how he lived, not for how he died.
Live Well. Die Well. – Philodemus’ Scroll On Death