Writing for learning Category
Pretend that you have a real difficult problem to solve. Suppose it’s difficult due to the complexity of it. In other words, suppose the problem isn’t something like, deciding what pair of shoes you should wear, but instead, involves a decision about which medical procedure you should have in order to cure a serious medical problem. How do you approach such a complex and serious problem?
Who is in control of your life? If not you, then who? Does control of your life belong to you? The previous questions, hopefully, caused you to question ownership of your life. Most likely you realize that even though it sometimes doesn’t seem like it, YOU are in control of your life.
“Why am I a survivor?” is a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. The question was brought to the forefront when my son died recently. On the surface, I realize his death isn’t directly related to my survival. Having stated that, I understand the concern of many of the doctors, nurses and other professionals who ask me: “How are you doing?” They would often, outwardly, express their concern about the well-being of the loved-ones who survived. They warned me about the difficulties I would encounter when trying to answer the question: “Why am I a survivor?”
Dear reader: This post is a re-posting from April 8, 2010. My son recently had a traumatic brain injury due to an accident while trimming a tree. I will be unable to do my regular postings for awhile. The post below was written about my son. As soon as possible, I will continue with new and diverse posts. Thanks, in advance, for your understanding.
A few years ago, I came across a quote from Ariane de Bonvoisin about peace. She stated: “On the other side of acceptance is where peace exists, where solutions are.” The quote was taken from her book, The First 30 Days: Your Guide to Making Any Change Easier. After reading the quote, I became curious about this concept we call “peace” and what it really means to me. You see, on the surface, I think the opposite of peace is war.
As a young man, my dad used the saying: “Can’t means you don’t want to!”, many times when responding to my statement of: “I can’t …”. I remember feeling angry when he would constantly say, “Can’t means …,” to me while I thought I was, proverbially speaking, “Stretched as far as I could be stretched.” I felt he didn’t understand my lack of strength, desire, will, motivation, or in general, my inability to actually do what he wanted. I now realize he had a point, though I still think he should have given more consideration to my age and immaturity.
“All things will pass.” “The only thing that doesn’t change is change itself.” “Nothing remains that’s not maintained.” The preceding quotes are all statements that I have used in the past. They all have to do with entropy. Entropy is a law of physics that asserts that all systems that are left unattended will eventually decay or “run down.” I think entropy applies to individuals and relationships. If I don’t maintain my body, it will breakdown. If I don’t maintain my marriage, it will breakdown. In fact, I’m finding it extremely difficult to find anything in my reality that entropy isn’t an integral part. What won’t “decay” if we don’t maintain it?
When our Navy seals attacked the compound where Osama bin Laden was living and killed him, along with three others, was it appropriate that some of us celebrated his death? Observing the celebration through the media, for some reason, resulted in me feeling uncomfortable. It didn’t seem right that we were celebrating as though we had just won World War 2. The killing of bin Laden, as our government has informed us, doesn’t mean we have won the war on terrorism. What does the killing of bin Laden and three others really mean?
What do you do when you commit to something? Do you give only “lip service” when you commit? Do you “talk the talk, but not ‘walk the walk’?” What does making a commitment mean? From your point of view, does making a commitment really matter?