For the past year I have watched the rapid physical decline of a loved one subject to the cruel ravages of Mesothelioma. It is poignant, heartbreaking and at times fills me with utter despair watching the final moments of a life being overwhelmed by the pain of such an insidious affliction.
It is moments like these that keenly focus your thinking on individual mortality and the frailty of the human condition. Certainly from this perspective the pursuit of physical perfection embodied in strength sports is exposed for the illusory nature of its offering: from the day we are born the clock commences as does our slow physical degradation.
Recently I listened to a seminar by a renowned social scientist who opined that all human life is a tragedy, that we move from ignorance of mortality in child hood to a deliberate avoidance of this truism in adulthood.
Due to events 3 years ago I am utterly cognisant of the fleeting nature of our existence. I eek out every moment I can understanding the bittersweet oblivion facing us all. Everything we own, have achieved and care about will ultimately fail.
I am not frightened of the end, in fact there is true humanity in embracing the days loving more deeply, embracing tighter smiling in the face of the mundane and ridiculous we are faced with daily.
I love life, I love who I have become. I understand my place in the world and its not defined by my status, wealth or possessions.: they are fleeting. I live each day grateful for the persistence, industriousness and good fortune that placed me exactly at this moment.
Thomo
Friday, June 1, 2018
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Reflections and Restarts
Writing for enjoyment is the salvation I too often forget. When life is complicated and professional and personal issues are pressing the first item jettisoned from my routine is writing.
In corporate life I am an adept keyboard warrior slicing through a slew of inbound requests while producing slide decks at a prodigious enough rate to give a McKinsey consultant pause. But when life asks more of me I always forget just how relaxing I find writing even if it is only for myself.
I am not sure why I like to write but I find sentence structure and the challenge to articulate a thought with clarity but brevity strangely carthartic. That’s not to say I find it easy but on occasions such as tonight there is a direct channel from brain to finger tips that requires little conscious effort.
Great writing is inherently beautiful, there is an elegant satisfaction in reading a tightly constructed piece of prose. I think the test of good writing is to read your own work years later and get a pang of satisfaction and almost disbelief at whether you actually wrote the piece. Let’s be clear though I don’t experience that often!
I am saddened that quality writing amongst the general population is on the wane (at least in my corporate personal bubble). At work I often am the brunt of light hearted ribbing for my word selection. The criticism being I use words that are too “big”. While it is good natured with no malice intended what makes me chuckle is that the vocabulary in question is actually simple. That a word as mundane as ‘palpable’ elicits criticism from my peers is sad.
Much like a painter with a broad pallet of colours can create a beautiful vista so too can a broad vocabulary articulate a richer tapestry of meaning.
So while this post has taken only a few minutes as I sit here in a nice flow state with a quiet house late at night I feel immeasurably more relaxed.
Because of this I will post again tomorrow night and try and remember how important it is for me to write.
Stay Strong
Thomo
In corporate life I am an adept keyboard warrior slicing through a slew of inbound requests while producing slide decks at a prodigious enough rate to give a McKinsey consultant pause. But when life asks more of me I always forget just how relaxing I find writing even if it is only for myself.
I am not sure why I like to write but I find sentence structure and the challenge to articulate a thought with clarity but brevity strangely carthartic. That’s not to say I find it easy but on occasions such as tonight there is a direct channel from brain to finger tips that requires little conscious effort.
Great writing is inherently beautiful, there is an elegant satisfaction in reading a tightly constructed piece of prose. I think the test of good writing is to read your own work years later and get a pang of satisfaction and almost disbelief at whether you actually wrote the piece. Let’s be clear though I don’t experience that often!
I am saddened that quality writing amongst the general population is on the wane (at least in my corporate personal bubble). At work I often am the brunt of light hearted ribbing for my word selection. The criticism being I use words that are too “big”. While it is good natured with no malice intended what makes me chuckle is that the vocabulary in question is actually simple. That a word as mundane as ‘palpable’ elicits criticism from my peers is sad.
Much like a painter with a broad pallet of colours can create a beautiful vista so too can a broad vocabulary articulate a richer tapestry of meaning.
So while this post has taken only a few minutes as I sit here in a nice flow state with a quiet house late at night I feel immeasurably more relaxed.
Because of this I will post again tomorrow night and try and remember how important it is for me to write.
Stay Strong
Thomo
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