Earlier this week a friend died in a climbing accident. He wasn’t just another regular bloke hanging off vertical walls. He was a master of his game, as badass as they come, yet he died. His safety system had perhaps failed or perhaps the rock upon which he rested came off. We would never know; he was climbing free-solo, risking his life to a level unacceptable to most. It’s the level where there is absolutely no room for error, subjective or objective. It doesn’t matter whether you failed or the mountain failed; ultimately it’s the climber who is lying dead at the bottom. And this incident jolted me out of a falsified dream I have been living through most of my adult life. It wasn’t his death that did this but the possibility that if he hadn’t died; then what?
I am a firm believer of destiny in matter of death. It is already destined by some divine power or yet unexplained scientific phenomenon that our time and date of death is fixed and nothing can change it. What isn’t determined though is the methodology and location; which we can influence by our actions through life. I don’t mind dying at all, either today, tomorrow or in the next twenty years. And if I die upon a mountain then that would be my absolute achievement in a self-fulfilling prophecy. What I do mind though that I am involved in a major accident and I don’t die. What if that day is not my destiny to die, yet I am involved in such a major accident that paralyzes me for the rest of my life or bereft me of any body part, vision, or any major functional organ; or leaves me brain dead. A sorry pitiable vegetable of human form dependent upon others for even a tiny bit of sustenance. Now that’s the kind of life I am absolutely not ready to accept.
Death is destined, accidents are not.