The tragedy of being human...

and its beauty too.





Life is so short. Too short. In a blink of an eye:
civilizations have come and gone,
animal species have become extinct and new ones found,
we are born, we create - and destroy, we eat, sleep, talk - and become quiet, think, remember and forget, we die, others die,
we study, work, socialize, travel,
laugh, cry, enjoy, detest, worry, adore, hate...
generation after generation
changes, changes, changes: technological, historical, social, scientific...

However there is one thing that remains and I feel might be at the center of the tragedy: human relationships.

As I was walking, a nice sunny afternoon - blue skies, flowers smiling and leaves whispering silent secrets, cars passing by (not too fast, not too noisy), the occasional dog barking and the occasional child laughing - a revelation, filled with questions:

at the center of the doing, existing, there is a longing for the other.

Even the most cynical person (I'd say in denial) has this. We all do, all the time. That we forget, that is another thing. All the problems, struggles, sufferings, if sourced deep enough arise from this. Even the doings and convolutions we fall into by living the day by day, most often arise from this.

But the real revelation is that this search for the other, this longing, deep enough is a longing for ourselves, for that part of us that was lost somewhere, some time. A part that is always the same, always constant, perfect and beautiful, although putting nouns to it seems inaccurate.

Who am I? Who are you? Ask yourself this question long enough and you'll see what I mean...

That's the beauty of being human too.

But ssshhh [finger in lips] be quiet and careful, if you are too busy, you might miss it.

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.