On accidents, skiing and Natasha Richardson

I confess.

I am not a Hollywood follower. I like movies, all sorts, but I find the fanaticism towards actors/actresses and public people is a bit too much.

Why? Probably because I feel they are just people, like you, me, and, unless you are in a deserted island (I'm not), our neighbors. Sure, some public figures are very, very talented and I always welcome inspiration from talented people. But to put some other human being on a pedestal is not quite right.

Anyway, the only reason I am talking about this is because I have been almost obliged to follow the accident/death of Natasha Richardson through yahoo news. Have you ever noticed how intelligent their titles are? They pull you into reading things that you did not know interest you. Ok, I am drifting again...

Back to topic. Apparently Richardson's death resulted from her falling on a beginners slope in some ski resort in Canada. She did not die immediately. She went off to her room as if nothing much and started having a headache. She was then taken to the hospital in Canada and then transferred to NY, but it was too late. Later, the autopsy showed her brain was swelling from the injury. Condolences to the family and friends.

When I read the whole story I felt a reminder of how much life can be such a delicate thing.

A few weeks ago I was skiing after many, many (MANY) years of absence into the sport. I was excited but also noticed some fear... What if I fall and get injured?

I started with the beginners slope. After the third time and a little confidence I went unto the next level (still beginners I would say). I kept going until I went to the most difficult gray slope. All in all I fell three times. Two of them feeling my whole body twisting.

Two interesting things I noticed where. One, the fear never really went away (I assume the falls were a result of this) and two, falling was not that bad. In fact it was fun and I felt as if I had landed in the softest cushion. It was the trying to get up that was hard.

The next day I was expecting to feel all bruised. Not one single pain. Eyebrows raised.

So... reading about Richardson's death and then comparing it to my skiing experience, it seems surreal. All these questions. All these little seemingly innocuous accidents that happen all the time. What is it that for some it means a final good bye, and for others just a bad moment?

I guess there is no answer. Or at least not one that doesn't involve some esoteric insight.

Life... such a delicate thing it is, indeed. There's mystery in life.

May her journey be safe and clear.