fragility

One of my favourite songs by Sting is Fragile, especially the refrain - on and on the rain will fall, like tears from the star, like tears from the star, on and on the rain will show, how fragile we are, how fragile we are.

Why start the blog with this?

In the first few months of this year my mom fell and broke a hip (dangerous at age 77) and my father has just had bypass surgery (at age 82). Will I soon be an orphan? They have already lived well into an age where most people don't get, and maybe these are the beginnings of the end. Either way, they will certainly no longer be able to live independently, as they have been doing. They will have to, finally, acknowledge how fragile they are.

For me that realisation came about ten years ago, when I got struck with pulmonary embolism, something you have a 20% chance of surviving. I realised then that I am also fragile, and that no day is guaranteed to me. Maybe that is why I live to the utmost of which I am capable.

This, of course, does not mean that I jump out of airplanes, mainly because I just don't feel the need to. What I do mean is that I get the most enjoyment I can even out of lazing in bed, or teaching a class, or traveling on the subway - I do not allow boredom to be part of my vocabulary any more.

In terms of taking risks - at the age of 55 I still love roller-coasters (in fact, my ideal death would be a sudden stroke or heart-attack on one!), I embrace new experiences and new activities, and despite knowing how fragile bone and flesh are, I treat them with respect and try to do what I can to be in good health.

Most of all, I think, in fragility there does lie strength - when you embrace it and realise that you are not alone, but part of a family, a community and that they can carry you when you need it, you become strong enough to face the one thing most humans fear the most - death.

And once you have died to your fear you become strong enough to see the cycle of life and the role you play in it, and to accept both.