Who would have thought that out of all the things to give someone perspective, out of all things in the world, in nature, surrounding us day by day in whatever the life we lead that Channel 7 would cause such a profound feeling in me that i am experiencing right now.
Jess and I had a fight. Not a big fight. A stupid fight. A long distance fight. When i say Jess and I had a fight, honestly speaking I had a fight with Jess. You know those fights you have with your partner where you can't articulate what they've done or why you are angry a them but you just are and they deserve it no matter what. It was one of those fights. It started because Jess told me she wanted to see me soon. Oh yes. Don't come near me. I stink. I stink, because I am an arsehole.
I just snapped at her and flew into this rant and all this anger and frustration burst forth and it felt good, satisfying to let it out in this torrent of blather. Like looking at the recent floodwaters, muddy and brown, unable to grasp that this water is just water afterall, like the water we drink in a bottle, or shower with but in the same instant is a deadly force to be reckoned with. Such is the way with words. They are just words. Those in the dictionary, but with force and feeling they can tear holes in the steeliest heart.
My anger just burst forth, from nowhere, it breached the dam walls and consumed me.
Did it stop?
Why did it stop?
Because of Channel 7.
Sunday Night covered the floods in their program but more importantly, they interviewed the brave helicopter rescuer who saved a number of lives including that of a little 14 month old boy who he winched to safety in a bag. As i watched this man whose boundless courage saved numerous lives, i was moved to tears. I was sobbing or crying hysterically but something in this mans bravery had moved me to my core.
That this man could risk everything he holds dear for these helpless people he'd never met before, nor need meet again. He risked never saying "I love you" to his kids again, racing his mate to the bottom of a schooner, cursing the television as his footy team lost, he risked never seeing a sunset again or seeing the mist on the road as the rain clouds clear. He risked never smelling fresh bread or cut grass or seeing frost on his breath. He risked all that and so so so much more for people who he had never met before. It moved me to tears.
Yet here I sit, filled with anger and frustration having cursed and damned the one I love without knowing what lies around the corner. And it hit me. Imagine if by some ill fate, those were the last words I had ever said to Jess, or if ... You get the picture.
We all know that life is short. Life is precious. But how often do we actually live a day, an hour, a moment, as if it were our last.
If you do, bloody good on you! Because i for one know that i take so many things for granted. I can go for days without ever truly being grateful for anything, when I have so much to be grateful for.
I urge you, I urge everyone to take a moment. One moment right now. Just to close your eyes and be thankful for one thing at least. Because nome of us know when the day might come where we'll be praying for the opportunity to be grateful for anything.
And for those of you who think this post is a load of shit, by all means you're entitled to your opinion but leave an abusive comment below, instead, leave it with Channel 7. :-)