Death lurks all around. I’m at an age where it’s not unexpected.
I find this freeing. What am I waiting for? The time to live is now. So even though it’s a gloomy morning and the promise of spring is filled with the promise of snow, sleet and strong winds, I’m feeling energized. Every time I hear of another death, I’m reminded of what a gift it is to breathe, to see and to live.
I’m wanting to forget about perfection and make more mistakes. What’s the worst that could happen? Make a fool of myself? Done that. Hurt other people? Done that. Fail? Done that, too. Being broken is the state of being human.
So here’s to living dangerously on this gloomy March day, somewhere between winter and spring. Hope springs eternal. (Alexander Pope)
Yesterday, on the CBC, Michael Enright interviewed MaggieO’Farrell (author of the memoir, I Am, I Am, I Am and other novels). They talked about her encounters with death and the randomness of life.
And when he asked her about writing a memoir, as opposed to fiction, she compared it to the Japanese art of Kintsugi, taking a broken object of ceramic and putting it back together with powdered gold or silver, and creating a new object. I love that metaphor. Life as Kintsugi, creating art from shattered lives.