I have a friend who went missing in the Arctic. He was working in Greenland and went out during a storm and didn't find his way back. After hours and hours and more than two days, the storm finally lifted and they searched for him again. He was found alive. He walked right up to the search vehicle and got in.
Amazing.
58 hours out in it . . . flat white nothing plus storm. He didn't have gear or food. He built himself a cave to hunker down in to, out of the wind.
He is now back in the states. The news today is that he will lose his dominant hand, all his toes and some parts of both feet. His left hand will need a skin graft.
And tonight I am very sad about this. My friend is a young man. My friend is a very athletic and active man, who works with his body. My friend's passion are the poles and working at both year round. Most probably he won't be able to do this kind of work for a while, while he relearns to walk on newly shaped feet.
I don't know this friend well. I've known him for years, but not well. I don't know him well enough to enjoy his great company off the ice. I won't hear from him out here, but I may hear about him through other folks. And I will miss him very, very much.
I was thinking tonight as I was wiggling in bed, not falling asleep, that this passionate work he did ended up taking pieces of him. It killed pieces of him. He is going to have to leave these pieces behind now, and forge ahead in a new whole way. As a new whole man. I don't doubt that he will work to return to the Arctic and the Antarctic. Maybe. Or maybe this new man will find something else he loves just as much.
The whole thing makes me wonder about . . . well . . . everything. About what we sacrifice for loving a place and working there. What life takes from us. What we have to leave behind. How we forge ahead. What other parts of my friend might have died up there, too? What parts of him are now newly born?
I know this man is a strong, strong man with an enormous life force. I know he'll weather this. No doubt there. I just wonder who he will be now. How this will go. If he doesn't make it back to the ice, I don't know that I will ever have a chance to find out.
God speed, Mr. Speed. Hopefully, there's some truth in positive thoughts reaching their intended. I am sending all mine tonight.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Remembering to Notice Joy
Swirling around me lately is a litany of terrible news.
A coworker's father is in the hospital after what seemed like a stroke.
My dearest friend's father is suffering brain cancer and living in her family room.
Her other best friend just got diagnosed with lymphoma.
My sister's company is about to lay off 1,000 people.
A beloved Antarctican went missing in a Greenland storm for over 58 hours, was found, but it isn't known how many paws he will be able to keep.
My workplace has devolved into paranoia, micro managing and oppression.
Last night I met with my dearest friend and gave her a necklace made in Takaka by a delightful German. It is a joyous silver and glass person, swinging on the chain, kicking up his feet with abandon. It came with a little card welcoming the new owner to the "Happy People Club."
Today I realized something. For many, many months I have been forgetting to notice joy. I have been reminding myself only of the dower, depressing, struggle of everything. I have noticed only the massive tragedies and the frequency of everyone's bad news. I have turned my eyes down to respect everyone's hard time.
And I have completely forgotten to notice joy.
Joy is still happening. When allowed, joy will come right up to you.
Today I went to the garden shop and it was FILLED with plants and baskets and hoes and rakes and hoses. It smelled of wet dirt and flowers. I thought my heart was going to burst! I was so excited I started to hyperventilate and almost had to sit down on the wet cement floor.
You see . . . there is still joy and things to feel joyful about . . . even in the face of hard things.
I must remember the balance, and that it isn't disrespectful to those suffering to allow one's self a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
A coworker's father is in the hospital after what seemed like a stroke.
My dearest friend's father is suffering brain cancer and living in her family room.
Her other best friend just got diagnosed with lymphoma.
My sister's company is about to lay off 1,000 people.
A beloved Antarctican went missing in a Greenland storm for over 58 hours, was found, but it isn't known how many paws he will be able to keep.
My workplace has devolved into paranoia, micro managing and oppression.
Last night I met with my dearest friend and gave her a necklace made in Takaka by a delightful German. It is a joyous silver and glass person, swinging on the chain, kicking up his feet with abandon. It came with a little card welcoming the new owner to the "Happy People Club."
Today I realized something. For many, many months I have been forgetting to notice joy. I have been reminding myself only of the dower, depressing, struggle of everything. I have noticed only the massive tragedies and the frequency of everyone's bad news. I have turned my eyes down to respect everyone's hard time.
And I have completely forgotten to notice joy.
Joy is still happening. When allowed, joy will come right up to you.
Today I went to the garden shop and it was FILLED with plants and baskets and hoes and rakes and hoses. It smelled of wet dirt and flowers. I thought my heart was going to burst! I was so excited I started to hyperventilate and almost had to sit down on the wet cement floor.
You see . . . there is still joy and things to feel joyful about . . . even in the face of hard things.
I must remember the balance, and that it isn't disrespectful to those suffering to allow one's self a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
Notes to Blog
Because I will most probably not get around to blogging about this stuff, I thought I would at least note the notes . . .
Blog about the phrase "I have known love," stated by NB when speaking of turning 30 and being ready to die.
Blog about my theory of alcohol management and how to control sales . . . and how no one will listen to me. (after getting out of a meeting on alcohol management policies for Antarctica and listening to stupid new directors talk about rationing).
Blog about how hard it is to sit and wait for your friends to deal with what they must. How they must. And how you have to wait for their attention.
Blog about SM shredding papers every morning and the atmosphere of fear and distrust that has taken over the office.
Blog about the phenomenon of seeing the person you made up in your head and not the person who actually stands in front of you.
What is the history of the term "red herring"?
What is the small little something that would make me not succeed? ie: like the thing that made CH unpromotable?
These next ones I carried all the way from the ice:
Blog about the conversation with Jake in the dish pit.
Blog about walking home from the hot tub.
Blog about "the commune", about manager cook day, about the ladies in the bathroom with their "water vessels" (humidifiers and tea kettles) who all gather there before bed and discuss the day.
Blog about EW sitting on the floor in the hallway with all the construction workers before they went downstairs to work. How she was reading out a child's letter full of questions about Antarctica, and how all the construction workers, sprawled all over the floor, were fascinated and attentive.
Blog about how I want my life to look at the end of it.
Blog about sitting still. About the preteen behind me on the plane who never stopped talking and about Kevin Pearson -- can't remember what he said -- but it was about talking instead of being. Art of stillness. Have you noticed most conversations aren't interesting to ease drop?
Blog about the Sweat Pea - magical land of Takaka.
Blog about the Heritage being my base camp.
Blog about releasing from the season in gasps.
Blog about Farewell Spit.
Blog about the circle of friends. Who can tell and who can't when you are needing to be propped up.
Blog about making the mistake of missing the obvious with RM and waiting for him to act.
Blog about the phrase "I have known love," stated by NB when speaking of turning 30 and being ready to die.
Blog about my theory of alcohol management and how to control sales . . . and how no one will listen to me. (after getting out of a meeting on alcohol management policies for Antarctica and listening to stupid new directors talk about rationing).
Blog about how hard it is to sit and wait for your friends to deal with what they must. How they must. And how you have to wait for their attention.
Blog about SM shredding papers every morning and the atmosphere of fear and distrust that has taken over the office.
Blog about the phenomenon of seeing the person you made up in your head and not the person who actually stands in front of you.
What is the history of the term "red herring"?
What is the small little something that would make me not succeed? ie: like the thing that made CH unpromotable?
These next ones I carried all the way from the ice:
Blog about the conversation with Jake in the dish pit.
Blog about walking home from the hot tub.
Blog about "the commune", about manager cook day, about the ladies in the bathroom with their "water vessels" (humidifiers and tea kettles) who all gather there before bed and discuss the day.
Blog about EW sitting on the floor in the hallway with all the construction workers before they went downstairs to work. How she was reading out a child's letter full of questions about Antarctica, and how all the construction workers, sprawled all over the floor, were fascinated and attentive.
Blog about how I want my life to look at the end of it.
Blog about sitting still. About the preteen behind me on the plane who never stopped talking and about Kevin Pearson -- can't remember what he said -- but it was about talking instead of being. Art of stillness. Have you noticed most conversations aren't interesting to ease drop?
Blog about the Sweat Pea - magical land of Takaka.
Blog about the Heritage being my base camp.
Blog about releasing from the season in gasps.
Blog about Farewell Spit.
Blog about the circle of friends. Who can tell and who can't when you are needing to be propped up.
Blog about making the mistake of missing the obvious with RM and waiting for him to act.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)