April 2011 ~ When I’m strong enough surgery will be needed on my spine to scrape away diseased scar tissue and try to release some pressure on the spinal chord. It’s a gamble with no guarantee of full mobility afterwards. But at least the bones will have a fighting chance to take me through the next 20 or 30 years. Deep joy!
One of life’s punctuations.
In less than a year I’ve gone from leonine man to casino slot machine and with so many people to call, put off or negotiate with, it’s as if my life is being played by numbers – percentage risk, days to wait, the numbers of people to call, callers in the queue, patient numbers, dates, times. The number of miles travelled, my age in years and heart beats per minute. Words, lines, segments, passages, collaborations, angels, damned fucking numbers – numbers, numbers and comparisons.
That’s one of the things numbers do isn’t it; they make you compare – bigger, better, longer, faster, richer, poorer, life for life, achievement for achievement, failure for failure. Numbers are the strictest of all human artifices, the most unforgiving and murderous.
Even when used to measure feelings – “I love you millions” – they are ultimately incapable of empathy which must be why we call the consequences of numbers, Fate.
I’m cheered by that realisation. On the road to enlightenment, it appears I have turned left and all of a sudden things make more sense. It’s clear that fate, chance, probability, risk – call it what you will – don’t matter at all.
Honestly, the only thing of any importance is what we, individually and collectively, believe to be true.