Welcome to 2000 and 8!

Thursday 3^rd May

It has been 12 weeks now since I snapped my acl and irrevocably changed aspects of my life. One thing which has become apparent to me is the small level of reflection through which I perceive things. Living moments become instances lost in time as I submerge myself in what I'm doing. A weakness or fault of this way of being is an unawareness of the more obvious aspects of whatever task is at hand. How important this weakness is I cannot gauge. I have no way of measuring the impact it will have on my life, but memories cannot be uniform in the way they are made as the living witness places the emphasis on recording the things which it deems most important - memories are the hegemonic interpretation of the subconscious being. They are not even infallible, as time softens even the sharpest of pain.

Perhaps this is no weakness in itself, being unaware of the passage of time, living days as days are, when goals are necessarily small. One thing it does create is a sense of frustration. When greater goals are at hand, achieving those goals only comes about through the same day to day living. Spinning out possibilities instead of creating opportunities and completing real things is no way to live, it's the antithesis of how we should involve ourselves in everything we do. If a sense of the overarching narrative is lost during the process, it can be reclaimed at the projects end, and in fact I don't think this can be seen as losing sight of whatever it is you are striving for. No one can predict how things will play out, they can plan and react, and yet the journey will only be apparent when you turn around at the end.

Right now I am frustrated. Without the ability to pursue my recovery at a speed far greater than that which I must take, the fallibility of youth and my own ideal of invincibility is patently obvious. To some extent this scares me, for my knee was broken in the most harmless of activities, yet I see in my life adventures and events in which I will move beyond injury to death. Where do I find solace? I guess that my knee was an accident borne of improbability. Metaphorically there was no parachute to open because I wasn't yet falling.

If one thing comes from this experience, I hope that it will be the spark to keep myself healthy, the potency of mind to never become complacent with my body or my mind. In this way I don't think I can fear death if I can embrace it, flirt with it, or touch it. Take away my ability to push myself to this edge and then you've taken away my life, my control, my way of knowing what existing is.

Death is the stark canvas on which the brilliance of life is painted in its most defining moments.