Oliver
Sacks.
Today,
Oliver Sacks died, the great neurologist, author and wise man. I was
so moved to read what he wrote upon learning his life was coming to
an end:
"Over
the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great
altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the
connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with
life.
On
the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time
that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I
love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new
levels of understanding and insight. ...
I
feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for
anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends.
I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no
longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global
warming.
This
is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the
Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but
these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice
when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and
diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.
I
have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of
deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and
each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of
myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there
is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be
replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate
— the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a
unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die
his own death.
I
cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one
of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and
I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and
thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the
special intercourse of writers and readers.
Above
all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this
beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege
and adventure.
4.9.2015
2 comments:
He was special, but so are we all.
He had such a richness of perception and will be missed.
XO
WWW
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