May 29, 2012

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye*

The other day I read an article that noted that prosthetic legs have become so amazing that some people are now making a previously unthinkable decision. Those who have already lost a foot, sometimes, will now choose to lose part of their the leg as well so these new prosthetics will work for them. Without just the foot they are relegated to a deadweight and a cane, without the leg and with this attachment…well,  they can walk, they can jump, hell they can even run. Some people, even in pain, however, will never make this choice. It is their leg. It is part of them. Who would make such a choice? Losing the foot was hard enough.

Unpleasant thought:

Just because you don’t want to lose something, does that mean you really want it or that is good for you to want it?

I mean, even if you want to hold onto it, even if you have nightmares about not losing, even if you have visions of life without it that leave you bewildered, beseeching, begging for time to reverse itself to a place when you could have it again: does that mean you, really, truly want and need it, or do you just not know how to be without it.

There are…things in life that become part of you. They grow into your structure and fit in that hole like a puzzle piece. Like a cog. Like a hook into an eye.

No one likes to lose a limb, but what if you find it was really just an bonus attachment? A not necessarily interchangeable but possibly replaceable accessory piece? Or what if it really truly was your leg? Your gnarled and painful leg. A frustrating piece of deadweight but still your flesh and bone and you should love it. Because it is you. Because it is part of you…

Or maybe you should listen to your dreams. Listen to your nightmares. Because maybe, if the thought of losing something bothers you so much you wake up in a cold sweat then perhaps the possession of it means more than a thousand walks in the park. 

You can always make the unthinkable decision. But once you chop that leg off, it aint growin’ back.

And then the question really becomes: is it the fear talking? Or the love? Do you really want it, or do you just lack the creativity to see yourself without it?

*Margaret Atwood

1 comment:

jennifer anderson said...

well being able to walk easier would mean more independence and more options to making a living. which i know that wasnt the point you were making...