My seven year old son lies in a hospital bed struggling to live and his body is so far gone that he doesn't care that he isn't eating, that his metabolism is shutting down. His small body wasting away as he stares out the window, the doctors struggling to keep him alive, force feeding him to keep his fragile toehold in life. He just stares out the window watching the eagles dance in the air above him. He doesn't understand when I tell him that he is dying, that he needs to eat, to drink, the food that I hold before him. He only knows that the birds are pretty, his eyes peaceful as his life slips away.
Life is such a fragile thread, we hide our fear of death today and brag how we are beating it, living longer, looking better as we do it and in our ignorance we have forgotten what death really is. We forget that death is a metaphor, a symbol, the reality faces us everyday and we refuse to face it. We take the objects of this pale and we call them important. We collect them and pile them together building bigger and bigger containers to store them in safety. Our whole existence becomes centered around these pretty things, these objects that entertain us, make us look better, give us power over others, or make us think we are smarter. We play our games of who is better, smarter or has more toys and we forget that this life is not what we think it is.
The reality that this is but a dream has been forgotten, that when we wake up we face real life or real death. We watch the pretty eagles do their dance in the air not realizing that our life is slipping away, that we are not eating or drinking and that soon, all too soon we must face the ultimate reality. The doctor shakes us to get our attention, but we smile our smile of ignorant peace, untouched by the dying of our souls as the food of life slips from our fingers. The doctor can only offer, we must accept the food that he offers, the new life that he has promised if we will just eat.
I smile as my son accepts the cookie I offer him, at this point does it matter what form the food comes in? He will live.
Aren't the eagles beautiful?
Life is such a fragile thread, we hide our fear of death today and brag how we are beating it, living longer, looking better as we do it and in our ignorance we have forgotten what death really is. We forget that death is a metaphor, a symbol, the reality faces us everyday and we refuse to face it. We take the objects of this pale and we call them important. We collect them and pile them together building bigger and bigger containers to store them in safety. Our whole existence becomes centered around these pretty things, these objects that entertain us, make us look better, give us power over others, or make us think we are smarter. We play our games of who is better, smarter or has more toys and we forget that this life is not what we think it is.
The reality that this is but a dream has been forgotten, that when we wake up we face real life or real death. We watch the pretty eagles do their dance in the air not realizing that our life is slipping away, that we are not eating or drinking and that soon, all too soon we must face the ultimate reality. The doctor shakes us to get our attention, but we smile our smile of ignorant peace, untouched by the dying of our souls as the food of life slips from our fingers. The doctor can only offer, we must accept the food that he offers, the new life that he has promised if we will just eat.
I smile as my son accepts the cookie I offer him, at this point does it matter what form the food comes in? He will live.
Aren't the eagles beautiful?
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