Septembre Russell – copy editor. There I was, standing in front of the television watching the news, when I heard a preview for a story that I would actually sit diligently through the commercial break to watch.
In Russia, a man crossed a street, briefcase in hand, and narrowly escaped being hit by a bus forcing its way through traffic because of brake failure.
The man was already clipping along at a half trot when his instincts took over, and he picked up his pace just as the bus careened into a sedan waiting at the stoplight. He had time to turn his head left, process the situation — namely his approaching death — and react.
After viewing the extraordinary scene, I wished I were that Russian commuter. I would have been given a renewed sense of existence, a prime endeavor to appreciate life more.
My desire to have been in that situation may be explained by the fact that it is too convenient to view life as insufferable: “Curse this,” “fie on that” — “things couldn’t be worse.” There is even an entire blog devoted to the gripes and groans of life.
We sporadically abhor people, places and things until we almost die, and then, out of nowhere, the rose-colored glasses slip over our eyes, and life is dazzling — if only for a moment.
Appreciation of life must not be confused with living life to the fullest. (Who has time for that, anyway?) I am not an advocate for increased participation in high-risk activities.
Under those circumstances, people consciously place themselves in potentially life-threatening situations. They should be excluded from the category that encompasses everything that inspires the appreciation of life.
You feel alive; however, when you escape the clutches of death without prior knowledge of its proximity, that is when colors look brighter and smiles appear wider, and it should not be that way.
I move that we become actively cognizant of the alternative to life. Please refrain, however, from accessing the “what-would–be-here-if-we-weren’t” mindset. We should save that for a different opinion.
Granted to each of us is one chance to live, but, at the same time, we have multitudes of opportunities to be thankful for our lives. They can be taken from us without warning, and there’s no coming back from that.
I wonder if the quick-thinking, Russian commuter experienced an altered perception of life because, as much of a cliché as it is, that is usually the end result of a brush with death.
As I mentioned before, the change is not everlasting, but it is not inaccessible in the absence of evading death. Can’t we remember our mortality sans the freak occurrences?
We can and should walk the earth hating and griping yet still realize that, almost out of nowhere, the very things that drive us could strike us dead — literally.