Life & Death

Almost every day there comes a point when I find myself shocked at everything that has happened in my life over the course of the past couple years.

Between late 2007-2009:

I graduated from university, moved to the other side of the world, travelled to fourteen different countries, had my apartment burglarized in Korea as I slept, taught little children who could not speak any English, met some of the greatest people I'd ever known until that point, ate things I never thought I would eat, did things I never thought I would do, got married, was blessed with two nephews, added two puppies to my family, taught music in a great school in Alberta, directed a Christmas musical and choir, took a travel writing course from Ryerson, got accepted into my master's programme, watched my grandfather deteriorate mentally, lost my grandmother, then, in many ways, lost my other grandmother (who I have not been able to have a conversation with since she had a stroke last Christmas), and of course - lost my father.

All of my accomplishments and moments of happiness seem to be obscured by loss. As you have probably surmised, I am not the same person I was in early 2007. My life before then was pretty predictable, pretty consistent. I was naive with a sprinkle of ignorance. Parts of the Laura I am today are envious of the Laura I was yesterday. After all, I had a charmed life. All the people who loved me most in this world were still with me. It hurts that I lost so much in such a short period of time. Yet, I refuse to let myself be defined by my loss. Anybody who has lost those they love so deeply know how easy it is to fall into a rut that seems to just call out your name. But, like a fighter in the ring I battle it everyday - as opposed to just standing there and letting it get the best of me.

A few nights ago one of the girls in my class did a presentation on the existentialist theory of counselling/therapy. Most of the presentations up to that point had kind of went in one ear and out the other, but this one really spoke to me and my current situation. One of the main guys behind this theory is Viktor Frankl. Some of you may have heard of him before, or even read his book: Man's Search for Meaning. Frankl was a holocaust survivor who spent time in some of the most notorious Nazi concentration camps, including the infamous "Auschwitz." His wife, parents, and most of his other family died in these camps. This guy had the most incredible attitude despite everything that he had been through. He gives me hope that human beings can come out of nearly anything with their heads held high if they choose to. He proposed a little mathematical equation for his situation: D=S-M. Before you begin to feel like you're reading a term paper, hear me out. Despair = Suffering - Meaning. In other words, you can avoid despair by finding meaning in your suffering. Even now, to me, that seems impossible. I see no meaning behind Alzheimer's. I see no meaning behind strokes that debilitate people to the extent that they are stuck inside their own body with no way to communicate. I see no meaning behind the death of a young, healthy man. But even though I cannot see the meaning, I cling to the hope that somehow it still exists.

The girl doing the presentation also played this clip of Steve Jobs. For all the PC-lovers out there, Steve Jobs is co-founder and CEO of Apple Inc. (FYI, anything he says after the 4:10 mark doesn't matter, so you can stop it there.)

:)

I love this, because Steve Jobs articulates so simply yet eloquently what it meant for him to be faced with death. His message differs greatly from Frankl's, but both are equally valid. Steve offers a kind of realistic-yet-dismal message. Though, I couldn't help but think after viewing the clip that maybe it shouldn't seem so dismal. We are all going to die. It's just a question of when. Confronting loss, in many ways, can be good for the human spirit. Standing in the face of death (as we all do each day) should help us to work harder, waste less time, be kinder, more peaceful, less judgmental, more compassionate, give freely, love more deeply. Because life truly is uncertain. We are not guaranteed another minute. Death is ubiquitous. Death, in all its ambiguity, is unavoidable. And in some paradoxical, oxymoronic way, death is a part of life.

Armed with the new knowledge that me and my family are not immune, my quest to find meaning has officially begun. I may not find it in this lifetime, but I have to believe I will someday because S-M=D. Suffering without meaning equals despair.