Thursday, July 19, 2012

Time (by Elisabet)

Time (by Elisabet) I am beginning to think that living until the age of 40 and above is a miracle. Life-threatening diseases, natural disasters, road accidents, mountain accidents... take along with them so many young lives! A meteorologist, good person, good colleague, good professional, who had been working at the Catalan TV channel, TV3, for 16 years passed away at the beginning of July at the age of 40 due to a mountain accident, overnight. It was not an especially difficult hike, but a series of misfortunes wanted him to end his days on his beloved mountains. I didn't know him personally, but we were used to his presence in our homes, through the TV, while having lunch or dinner. He was someone so familiar, so enthusiastic, who would come often to update us about the weather; big issue, the ever-changing weather, in an area where we enjoy (and suffer!) the four seasons. Some days before this took place I had read the article on this blog dated June 22, 2012, where that nice comparison was made between mountain hikes and radiotherapy. My mind went immediately to it. While things like this happen we continue living. Cancer is a very strange illness; except for the most unfortunate cases in which the diagnosis takes place too late and the end comes too soon, it is an illness that gives us something we always longed for, or used to complain we never had enough, or we usually ran out of: time. Even with metastases we have learnt the hard way that there's still time ahead of us and we treasure it more than ever. We feel we are “buying time”, indeed. Cancer has given me a different perception of time, a way to discern what's really important from what's not. There's been a change in priorities and I stopped doing long-term planning. Now I do short-term and mid-term planning (short-term meaning tomorrow; mid-term meaning next week, next month). Not that I don't think about next year and the following years; I do it with hope, but not with the urgency to plan on anything. Cancer has taught me to slow down and at the same time to stop postponing things I had been wanting to do. They may be simple things such as watching that film, or reading that book, or bigger things provided my present situation allows me to do them. The meteorologist couldn't “buy” any extra time. Of course he was spared from the physical and psychological burden that an illness like cancer implies, but while he's already gone we are still here to share our thoughts and experiences, our stories, our side effects... here to enjoy life, to experience happiness in different ways that can be unexpectedly highly rewarding... here to fight, here to keep holding on to life like climbers holding on to the rocky mountain walls.

8 comments:

  1. For those who read the article to know: the two pictures are from my own hikes some time ago (this is above 2000 m.); not the same spots where the meteorologist went, but the same National Park. Thank you. Elisabet.

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  2. Dear Elisabet, Thank you for this thoughtful piece on the notion of time, and our time on earth...the untimely death of vitally alive people through accidents and natural disasters is always a time for the rest of us to reflect on our own lives and the fragile preciousness of it all. I really appreciate your posts here because its a unique way to be sharing a journey of ever deepening healing and insights that both you and Yin San are on. I'm so glad that you've both found each other as very special friends, and wish you both the very best of experiences as you find your way through through valleys & mountain tops. Love, Susanna

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  3. .....like climbers holding on to the rocky mountain walls

    I was touched by this sentence.

    Very wonderful sentense. I admit the bitter is much more than the sweet in life whatever yr situation is. But we always hold the rocky of the mountain of the life and up inch by inch. The altitude we finished maybe different, but sights we have is from every effort we made for up.

    I remembered during the proceeding of my each long-distance race, I always want to give up because I was really exhausted, I felt I can't move anymore, but I don't know why I continued to move even my feet were numb and my body is so heavy. I think I did it just with unconciousness. However, amazing, I successfully finished each long-distance race.

    This is a kind of experience everyone who did hiking or long-distance race or climbing has. In many cases, we don't why we insist and we don't know the result, we just move on, then we did it.

    Always move one more inch. Go ahead, Yinsan.


    With love,
    Flora.

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  4. I'm sitting at home today with some silly back and knee pain trying to separate myself from the physicality of the aching. "You are not your knee, you are not your back, you are not your pain," came up in a relaxation meditation during Kundalini yoga yesterday. All this trite yet true platitudes that sound so easy to say and so hard to DO. And yet Yin manages to do them on a moment-to-moment and daily basis.

    How did you find such an absolutely appropriate musing on Time Yin? One whose town sounds as gentle and thoughtful as your own musings. I only cottoned on at the end that you hadn't written it yourself. Elisabet and you share the ability to step back from the Big C and look at the Little Cs like calmness, caring, carefreeness, cinema, coexistence, cogency, cognition, coherence, collaboration, compassion, conviviality, curiosity and so many other attributes not involving "c."

    Thank you yet again and as always. You continue to inspire us all!

    With love
    Jennifer

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  5. How can one think about time without thinking about space? How can one think about space without thinking about the self? If life is only a subjective experience, how would you measure time? If we can only recognize the present as real, not the past and its future, would time be meaningful as the conventional way it entails?

    While it is a relief to only concentrate on the present, deep inside us we know that it is not all!

    Love and hugs,
    Transfabulous

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  6. 我终于看到了——
    你的房子
    你最爱的大电视
    你阳台上的小圆桌和藤椅
    你的朋友们
    你少年时令人惊艳的水彩画作

    你是个天使
    只是举着小魔鬼的叉子
    又长着一只小魔鬼的犄角
    谁离你最近
    便刺向谁

    Lee

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  7. 你若安好,便是晴天。

    Lee

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  8. Quite beautiful and insightful, thank you for sharing :-)

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