I almost ran a red light yesterday.
I had this inexplicable blip in attention that, had it happened just a moment later, easily could’ve resulted in a tragic outcome.
All I could think to myself in the moments after emergency braking was, “wow, how fragile is life.”
If we’re lucky, most days are unremarkable: we wake up, maybe we might have an ache here or there but otherwise nothing major, we’re able to get around just fine, we’re able to eat and be productive, we’re able to go to bed and, with any luck, we’ll find ourselves equally capable in the next day.
If you’ve ever had a bad cold or near-death experience, you can appreciate how quickly and unexpectedly such days can be taken away from you.
In a sort of poetic irony, recognizing how fragile your existence is can actually be a profound source of strength.
To know that any number of things could, in an instant, severely inhibit or end your time here has a way of creating an unstoppable sense of urgency and courage to do and say the things that you know are important but you fear doing.
For some people, the thing they want to do but fear is taking a new job; for others, it’s quitting.
For some people, it’s telling someone how they really feel.
In the face of I-want-to-do-this-but-am-afraid dilemmas, your fragility — the knowledge that there may not be a better time — can help you see well past your reservations so that you can have the courage to act in a genuine way that you will not regret.