What would happen if we lived like mortals?
acceptance, gratitude and the silver lining of my human frailty
I am partially blind. This is not always apparent to people upon meeting me, it’s not like I am running into walls and knocking people over as I go about my day. I don’t wear sunglasses unless it’s sunny and don’t have one of those stylish white get-out-of-my-way sticks either. Since my first retinal detachment about twenty years ago, I have progressively lost center and peripheral vision as.a result of repeated retinal detachments in both eyes. This usually only happens to people when they're old or get struck by lightning. It happens to me more often and from a younger age because my eyes are bigger than most.
I’m very grateful for the talented retina surgeons who have repaired my retinas after each detachment and kept me from losing my vision entirely. In olden times, I would surely be blind by now. In addition to vision loss, I have had erratic wavy lines on the right side of my field of vision since 2016. I’m not sure what caused this, my doctors have said it’s something I just have to ‘get used to.’ I’ve started to call them my silver lining, because they offer a persistent reminder that my vision is a gift not to be taken for granted.
Additional retinal detachments are possible and so while I may be fortunate and maintain the vision I have now for years to come, it’s also possible that my vision could degrade further. This has left me with an urgency to make the most of what I have while I still have it.
At this time, what I most want to do is see the world. While I have my five senses and decent physical mobility, I want to experience as much as I can. Not just taking in the scenery, but connecting with diverse people and hearing their stories too. Given the modest disability benefits I receive, I’ve learned to live frugally and actually set aside a larger portion of my income for savings than I did when I was earning far greater sums. With my savings, I mainly pursue travel. I’ve learned to travel frugally as well, getting to see and do much more per dollar spent than most tourists. As a writer, I also take advantage of writing residency programs around the world.
The funny thing is, I do this all because of my eye condition. Yet, there are millions of other things that could happen at any time to impair my senses or end my life entirely - many with a greater probability than another retinal detachment. In this way, I’m not really any different from you or anyone else. The only practical difference is that I have a constant reminder of this, thanks to the silver lining in my vision.
Maybe we all should find some sort of silver lining, something to remind us of our mortality on a daily basis. Because today is the day, it’s the only time we have to enjoy what we have before it’s gone. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. I don’t say this to be alarmist, morbid or pessimistic, for most of us tomorrow might be even better than today, but for some of us that won’t be the case. And for all of us, it’s guaranteed that one day will surely be our last.
So do we brush that unpleasant thought aside and continue on as if it weren’t the case? It seems silly, yet it’s what we often do. Perhaps because we forget, the mainstream media certainly doesn’t want us to think about mortality - it wants to sell us on the various Fountain of Youth products that might offer a convincing facade to accompany our continued denial. Modern medicine has certainly extended the average lifespan, but I’ve had far too many friends and family meet early deaths to live by averages.
For me, right now, it means traveling to parts of the world I’ve never been to before and may not have the chance to see in the future. I don’t know what my physical or economic circumstances will be when I’m older, but for the time being I am in the uniquely privileged position to have the time and money required for travel and I’m not taking it for granted or letting it go to waste.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve visited Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Labrador, Greenland and Iceland. Apart from a few places in Iceland, it’s all new to me. While I wish I had more time in each place, I’ve gotten a taste of the unique cultures and landscapes. Chatting up locals, buying books by regional writers, going on hikes and taking in the highlights of the cities while snapping loads of photos along the way has given me a chance to see the world differently and appreciate its vastness. By equal measure, it’s also brought my own problems and concerns from my life back home down to scale. Things that seemed so important, like trying to start a career in law, are less so to me now, other things, like appreciating the uniqueness of the place I call home as well as my family and friends there, has surprisingly become more important to me as I meet people who call the places I visit their home.
I’m also drawn to take writing more seriously than I have in the past. It’s been a while since I invested in anything beyond blog posts and while I sometimes dismiss writing as unimportant, it seems to have a sustained presence in my life. Taking it seriously means devoting significantly more time to the endeavor. Time I previously spent volunteering with local community organizations with the belief that my time was better spent providing direct service to my community than writing.
The volunteering has been a necessary experience, because it brought my expectations in terms of impact down to size. I can’t fix the homelessness crisis, the best I can do is give a few people some education and resources that might help as well as a listening ear. Hearing their stories had a tremendous impact on me. By the same token, my writing will not revolutionize the world, but maybe it can bring a smile to a few faces. And just because work has limited impact, doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. Those handful of people I helped while volunteering, the few dozen people who tell me they enjoy my writing, that impact truly matters and is more than enough to make the work worthwhile.
And whatever I have to write, it’s certainly something I can’t put off. While I know I will be able to write even if I lose my eyesight, it’s certainly a lot easier to do while I have some of it left. And if I’m not writing on a daily basis, I believe the stories in my imagination fade away as new ones arrive. The more I can capture and share, the better, as they don’t wait around for me to write them. I’d love to open another bookshop and do more publishing as well, but the path forward on those things is not clear right now. I’ll keep looking for the stars to align and if opportunities present themselves, I certainly won’t let them pass by.
So what would happen if we all lived like mortals? What would we do differently today? Do you have a silver lining?
