A Delicate Life

By Larry Feinstein

Larry Feinstein

“If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.” — The Buddha

I am not sure what it is about the dark at four in the morning. I was nine years old, sleeping alone in his bedroom, because big brother was in Brooklyn with cousins. I was awakened by the phone and the sound of my mother shrieking a sound never to be replicated. My father had died and I suddenly felt all alone, floating in a lightless infinity.

The world loves a hero, but how about someone just like me or you, especially in the middle of the night, no matter your age? Now, you are probably asking yourself where the heck is Larry going with this? You’re in luck and we are both about to find out.

I am not sure how much I have written about how fragile life is to me. Believe me, if I thought I have been giving the wrong idea, I’d feel like a traitor to the truth. My insides started busting out years ago. Much later in life, I took up this word business, intent on sharing as much as I could, as honestly as I could. So, at least the pressure is off in that regard.

You know, I have written a lot about age, hopefully never giving the idea that accumulating it is some kind of accomplishment. The adjustments you need to make along the way are continually shocking. How could you possibly know what you don’t know?

I don’t care how old you are, of course you have thought about death, probably a bit more than once. The more that conveniently, distant concept comes into crystal, clear focus, the more it fills in some spaces, where the light lived, just seconds before.

Accommodation never stops, how can it? With lucky people like me, not all that much has been asked of us. I had one extremely serious incident that should have cost my leg, but it didn’t. All these years later, I am grateful for having shared my bed with death. While it might be a notch in my spiritual belt, time passes most unsympathetically. You really don’t get any credit for your history. It happened and it’s gone. I think that can be shocking for some of us.

Let’s get back to the middle of the night and the impetus for this tale. A handful of days ago, I was getting sick, but it briefly remained anonymous, just not feeling right. Then, I began experiencing some solid discomfort and it made me seriously anxious at night. Even typing this right now, pulls at me uncomfortably. I have been having a horrid time sleeping; the night laughing at me, as I feel its glare. Don’t ask me why, but I thought sharing this way would purge it from my calendar by exposing it.

Sometimes, I rehearse my death scene in my head. It has nothing to do with circumstance or timing or anything remotely outside my performance at that instant. Will I exhibit a kind of grace? Will I embarrass myself? Will I even care?

Years ago, in my very early time in Santa Fe, New Mexico, I was introduced to camping. The absolute first night, out in the middle of nowhere, under the watchful eye of the heavens, I had a bona fide, full on, panic attack. The instant the tent was zipped up, I lost my cookies. I had never had that feeling before. It’s like you’re going to irrevocably lose your mind if you are not extricated from an insane, emotional coffin in the razor’s edge of the moment.

There is something primal about panic, that fraction of a second when you start drowning in it. The truth is, you think you’re going to die, and the reality of the exact circumstance is nearly irrelevant.

In some ways for me, this monster was unleashed, and that shocking sensation left some seeds inside.

My experience as a young boy that one night kind of pointed me in the direction of Zen, but it took me quite some time to catch up with it. I have put a great deal of my energy into understanding how our own mortality governs all our actions, whether we are aware of it or not.

This concept has stealthily slipped into being far more tangible with the passage of time, at least for me. You know, the view from a distance can be incredibly panoramic and dreamy, while up close, a bit sharper, even metaphorically cutting.

Part of the reason for sharing this is very selfish. When I first decided to write about this, I knew that by letting it out, I could let it go. I can also tell you the idea worked. Somewhere in these paragraphs, it became the next day, with a night of gentle resolution in between. I just got scared and fear grabbed the wheel for a while, veering off, on to the shoulder of life’s promenade.

I tell you, you don’t get to any profound places with age, because you have to keep earning it each moment. I share this kind of stuff with you because I know I am not alone. I think it is a huge mistake on every imaginable level to truly believe you are completely alone, singular and disconnected from everything.

It is the light at the end of the tunnel so many have seen and returned to share.

Life is so delicate, isn’t it?

• Visit buzzsprout.com/1292459 if you want to hear the news of the week, like you have never heard it before. Or go to www.youtube.com/channel/UCiKB7SheuTWKABYWRolop4g to watch two guys, seemingly having nothing in common, put on a weekly show of what it’s like to be friends.