When your platitudes come back to bite you
I was having lunch with a friend, and we were discussing the monsoon, which is a favorite local summer sport. We get real weather so rarely, we have to discuss it while we have the chance. I shared with her my little anecdote about raking as the lightning struck closer and closer to where I was working, and she tsked me for waiting to take cover. I explained to her, as I did in my last post, that my philosophy now is that if it’s not my time, I won’t get hit, and if it is, ain’t much I can do about it anyway. She said, "I don’t like that attitude." I shrugged. Tough, I thought.
I was a little irked, and remain so, because she was of the camp who told me that he was in a better place, and that it must’ve been his time, because all of us leave this earth voluntarily, according to our soul contract, regardless of what we are consciously aware of wanting and planning. That is her belief.
If she truly believes that, then she should be fine with my "attitude," which is right in line with that belief. But she’s not. So whose faith in this crazy universe is shaky? I don’t know from soul contracts, but I assume the soul has will, and I believe we go on, and that’s enough for me. It’s not like I’m throwing myself off of cliffs or diving with sharks in a wetsuit made of beef. I’m raking in my yard; not a high-risk activity by most measures. It’s not indicative of a death wish. You’re not going to see my neighbors on the 10 o’clock news after my death saying, "That one…we always knew she was trouble, what with her raking and all. We knew it would come to no good end."
I drive carefully, looking both ways when my light turns green because I live in a city full of red-light-runners. I make sure that my extension ladder is at a proper 45-degree angle to the house and that three rungs are above the roofline before I go up on the roof, maintaining 3 points of contact at all times. I wear a mask and gloves when working with caustic chemicals or when I’m sawing shell. Those are known and common dangers to my health. I think it’s a waste of energy to worry about freak accidents; they are rare, and they are unpredictable, which is why they’re "freak" accidents. I am far more likely to be the casualty of heart disease, cancer, or car accident then I am of being struck by lightning.
And yet while those things cross my mind, I know I can’t predict them, either. I was rear-ended with significant force when I was sitting placidly at a red light. I don’t tan and I don’t smoke. If/when I turn 40, I’ll probably start getting an annual mammogram. Beyond that, I’m not sure what else is in my control. She told me, "you still have to be careful." What kind of carefulness will allow me to avoid a brain tumor, or a crazy person that shoots up a restaurant I happen to be in?
She tells me that she’s not afraid of dying. Neither am I. Not being afraid to die is not the same as wanting to die, and she’s the last person I should think I’d have to explain that to. I don’t like being chided for my philosophies, especially by someone who ostensibly shares them. I suppose she just cares, and doesn’t want anything to happen to me, just like I don’t want anything to happen to those I love. But I guess I thought I was speaking to a more understanding audience.
But I guess I thought I was speaking to a more understanding audience.
Isn’t it just a pain in the ass when the above occurs? That’s probably why I don’t talk to people (in general) much.
I have to say, also, that that was one of many reasons I was compelled to un-register from “the board”.
So out of curiosity, is she someone who reads your blog?
I echo Rob’s comment above too: that’s probably why I stopped talking to a lot of people too after Charley died (and why I turned to writing instead a few months ago).
I liked the title of this post, laughed often while reading its entirety, heartily nodded my head in agreement many times. I get what you’re saying completely. I about snorted my sip of water our my nose when I read “a wetsuit made of beef.” That’s QUITE the mental imagery, there. =)
I’ve run into people (either directly or indirectly) who are convinced that nothing could ever happen to me after Charley died. God, fate, luck, chance–whatever you want to call it–just wouldn’t work that way. And I just look at them and wonder what version of crack they’re smoking, because something could happen to me just as easily as it did to Charley. Freak, fluke, and out of nowhere. That it already brushed me once doesn’t disqualify me in the future.
But I forget other people don’t think that way…much like your friend….
No, she does not. Alicia and one friend (who is in charge of dealing with my blogs if I should die) are the only people in my real life who have this URL, and that’s because I met Alicia through blogging. That is by design. Even E. hasn’t asked to read this blog; I think he knows its my therapy and best left private.
Exactly as you say–mathematical odds mean nothing to individual circumstances. I never believed I’d lose a true love at 34. Of course that wouldn’t happen to me! Until it did. There’s no road back to that kind of naivete, and no warning those who are blessed to still possess it. The only way to learn that lesson is the hard way. When you get done asking “Why me???” you pretty much have to ask, “Well, why NOT me?” I know too many widows, actually and virtually, to believe it was personal.
And for the record, beverage out the nose is, for me, the highest praise.
AWESOME!