By the time I can walk with a cane at a relatively easy pace without getting tired and (maybe) have an imperfect use of my left hand, I’ll be sixty years old. At that time, I’ll be able to articulate my words and (maybe) sing decently. Perhaps I’ll be fifty-nine, or close to that age, when I’m able to go back to work – and most likely type slowly with one hand. That means four or five years will have gone by since my hemangioma started bleeding when I have restored, to some extent, my lost skills.
Our society considers that this time has been “lost”: were I asked what I did during these years, I would have to answer, nothing. To avoid giving such an answer, I’ve read, and I’m reading, a lot of books I had on the “must-read” list; I’ve written, and am writing, essays to be published in a collection in Argentina in the future or to publish today in a bilingual e-journal; I wrote and published two books of poems, and I’m still writing one; and I’m translating and editing books for friends. But I’m doing this work out of harshness toward myself – I constantly hear a stern voice in my head telling me, “You must be productive. You must make good use of your free time.”
I have to get into my head that when five years will have passed since my injury, I’ll have used them productively: I will have learned important things about myself and others; I will have learned how to modify my behaviors (though going from learning to doing takes quite a while); I will have learned to be patient and see the positive aspects of things that seem negative to me (maybe); my relationships with Nathan and Eric will have strengthened; and I’ll have developed my friendships with people who will have become important to me. So, when I turn sixty, besides resuming work, I will have changed for the better (I hope) and will enjoy my old and new relationships; the past five years will have been truly productive.
I talked about time in a different context (a conversation with a friend) and mentioned Byung-Chul Han’s book The Burnout Society.
Our society considers that this time has been “lost”: were I asked what I did during these years, I would have to answer, nothing. To avoid giving such an answer, I’ve read, and I’m reading, a lot of books I had on the “must-read” list; I’ve written, and am writing, essays to be published in a collection in Argentina in the future or to publish today in a bilingual e-journal; I wrote and published two books of poems, and I’m still writing one; and I’m translating and editing books for friends. But I’m doing this work out of harshness toward myself – I constantly hear a stern voice in my head telling me, “You must be productive. You must make good use of your free time.”
I have to get into my head that when five years will have passed since my injury, I’ll have used them productively: I will have learned important things about myself and others; I will have learned how to modify my behaviors (though going from learning to doing takes quite a while); I will have learned to be patient and see the positive aspects of things that seem negative to me (maybe); my relationships with Nathan and Eric will have strengthened; and I’ll have developed my friendships with people who will have become important to me. So, when I turn sixty, besides resuming work, I will have changed for the better (I hope) and will enjoy my old and new relationships; the past five years will have been truly productive.
I talked about time in a different context (a conversation with a friend) and mentioned Byung-Chul Han’s book The Burnout Society.
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