I was saying on my Facebook page this morning how bitingly sad I found the image of Philip Seymour Hoffman at his death – that brilliant, complex and talented man transformed so brutally, so needlessly, into a lonely cold body with a syringe it its arm and a bag of heroin nearby. What a(nother) monstrous waste of genius. What a(nother) monstrous waste of a life.
Resultantly, my Wot I loved Today blog is, for today, not about a cheese I’ve gorged on or a giggle I’ve had with The Man but about the very fact of my life. For this, as Seymour Hoffman’s death has reminded me, is a fragile gift and it is contingent on many factors; some of which I have control over, many of which I don’t.
I’m grateful today for the breath that passes in and out of my lungs without my needing even to think about it. I’m grateful for my heart that pumps oxygen through my arteries and veins, giving life to the complex network of muscles that keep me moving. I’m grateful to my digestive system for delivering vital nutrients to the bits of me that need them, and to my bones for keeping me strong and upright.
I’m grateful for my eyes that see beauty and colour, and my mind for the richly-woven cloth of thoughts and feelings it creates. I’m grateful for my nose, my ears, my skin and my mouth for delivering information that no computer could ever reproduce.
I’m grateful for every moment that I’m here, in this body, in this world of such joy and sadness.
I’m just really, really grateful.