It’s not solid, you know; and not stable

In an earlier post I included a haiku I wrote some time ago – one that reappears to me from time to time:

at any moment
gone (perhaps)
splat like a fly.

When this not very original thought occurred to me, it arose in the context of my own mortality and to a lesser degree on the fundamental, root impermanence of and in our lives. This week I heard Joan Didion interviewed on her new book, The Year of Magical Thinking which gives an account of life, her life, changing when her husband fell over dead at the dinner table as she was tossing the salad. “Life changes fast,” Ms. Didion would write a day or two later. “Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.” (From a NY Times book review)

And in an article adapted from the book:

This is my attempt to make sense of the period that followed, weeks and then months that cut loose any fixed idea I had ever had about death, about illness, about probability and luck, about good fortune and bad, about marriage and children and memory, about grief, about the ways in which people do and do not deal with the fact that life ends, about the shallowness of sanity, about life itself. (From the NY Times Magazine)

While she is writing about the loss of her husband, in an important way she captures the experience of loss itself and to repeat, “…the ways in which people do and do not deal with the fact that life ends, about the shallowness of sanity, about life itself.”

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