Saturday, March 14, 2015

Who Is A Hero?

I worry a lot. I worry that loved ones will die, and leave me alone. I worry I'll lose facility. I worry I won't have enough money to survive. I worry about what happens after death. Heck, I worry if I'll have a job on Monday. A girlfriend on Tuesday. And a hit single next Friday (that I didn't copy from Marvin Gaye).

But then I find an iconic corner of my apartment, which is full of iconic corners (note the gaudy pic!). Or, I step outside. Breathe the air. Gaze up at the sky. Remind myself that the universe is now estimated to be some 17 billion light years across. That I am at one and the same time infinitesimally microscopic and impossibly unique. That I am fragile and irreplaceable. Have not the first clue who I am or how I got here. But that I am here. Life is beautiful. I am magical. And all I can do is marvel and enjoy.

I have no control over what was, what is or what will be. I had no choice about the gifts I was given. My health. My family. Or the dimension in which I find myself. The only control I have is whether or not I choose to be grateful, to laugh and to enjoy life.

We are conditioned to believe that heroes are people who achieve greatly. Who are what we envy. Who do what we can only dream about.

But life's greatest challenge. And perhaps the reason for this mortal coil. Is to put aside envy. Overcome fear. Accept the hand we have been dealt. Own it. Love it. Laugh about it. And fully enjoy it. For when we do that, we have truly become our own hero.

Look. I've got a heavy spring cold, and eight hours of washing dishes to look forward to. It was either this little bit of inspiration or another rerun of Alien 3 ...