It is on days like today that I am reminded of how tenuously I cling to my own life. Despite every desperate desire to control my own safety, unthinkable events like the one at Virginia Tech, once again, prove that there is no such thing as security.
At any moment, our lives may be taken from us –whether by a ruthless murderer, an out of control car, or a natural disaster. Most of us, in fact, will be done in by our own failing bodies. Even in the worst of tragedies, I am grounded in the strange wonder of our fleetingness of our lives. This is a reminder for which I am grateful, for it is a liberating realization.
As a student, Monday's violence is particularly unnerving. The shooting proves that even the innocent act of attending class is unsafe. Yesterday's incident brought to mind a story I read about the threat that Iraqi students face, merely for attending class at Baghdad University. There, students risk their lives for the education that I, too often, take for granted.
As CNN's Kyra Phillips reported, "Since the war in Iraq began in March 2003, at least 70 security guards and employees have been killed and 100 professors have been assassinated, officials said. The death toll from car bombs on campus isn't even known because there have been so many." These students have experienced unyielding violence, and yet they carry on in a graceful protest of violence and destruction.
My paternal grandmother, who 27 years ago lost her young husband to diabetes after he suffered for many years, comments that she wakes up every morning grateful to God just to be alive. A few months ago, when she was hospitalized during a health scare, my father remarked about her unbelievable calm. "If it's my time, I'll go," she placidly insisted throughout the days of her hospital stay. Like a modern-day mystic, she has known death, and she accepts death, but every day she chooses life.
Last night, I read that in one classroom at Virginia Tech, a student survived by playing dead. In the tragedies that I have encountered, I have learned that the only way to proceed is to nod my head to death, and then lift my eyes to new life.
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This is a terrific post, too bad Paris receives all the attention and comments. What does that say about us- that hasn't been said? Beyond our shallowness?
I experienced a disease induced mid-life crisis at 32-- it often takes that to make a person wake up. Glad to see you got there early Liz.
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This is right on, and profound. I look forward to reading your future posts.
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