Life and Death

I find myself thinking about death a lot lately... For various reasons...

We are surrounded by violence, war, children wielding guns and people murdering their spouses and children and parents. People my age. People older. People younger.

It is sad, scary, confusing, ridiculous, disturbing...

I chose to take a risk. Travelling 10,000 kms by plane and undergoing a major operation (each with their own unique set of potential complications) all for my life. To reclaim my freedom from the limits my body has placed on me and to have the opportunity to really live my life as it deserves to be lived.

I trust my instincts and in this case, my instincts are telling me that everything will be just fine with the surgery (or I wouldn't be going). The plane ride on the other hand is much more intimidating.. Occasionally, there is this gnawing in the back of my mind wondering if this is it for me and maybe I am not sensing disaster because I am subconsciously at peace with dying... ugh... I think that is just my way of preparing for the worst... but can someone really prepare?

And so on the day I had my WILL finalized, I hear that a TAM plane has crashed in Sao Paulo (one of the cities I fly into) killing 200 people. 200 people. 2 days before I get on a plane heading for that same city.

This is what keeps me up at night.

I pray that my uneasiness about the flight was because I sensed that disaster and not another..

I don't want to be a statistic. Not for obesity, not for airplanes, not for surgery, not for anything. My fate still remains in my control somewhat and I do feel that everything will be fine. I choose for everything to be fine. I believe in positive thinking and I believe that what is meant to be, will be.

So how is it that someone can join the army in the middle of WWIII knowing full well that soldiers are dying all the time, running head on into the battle? Straight into the line of fire?? Are they crazy??

Am I?

I am not saving lives or fighting for people... but I am saving MY life and fighting for myself.

I guess I am my own hero in a way... but yet I don't feel all that heroic. Not just yet.

And so, with 2 days to go before I head to Brazil, I reflect on those 200 who died in Sao Paulo, their families, soldiers, innocent victims of domestic violence and the bazillion other people whose spirits have been evicted from their physical confines. And I pray that my journey, head first into the fight is as victorious as I expect it will be.

It will be fine.