A phone call. I pick it up and listen to the shocking story that my friend has to share. And I listen. I become the listening ear. I absorb. I console and the cancer that is Human fragility and sadness within me hears its beckoning and grows in strength.
Through the tale that I am now acquainted with, I remember the horrid truth that we, in fact, are not free. Not free in the least. The only thing that we think we have control and a right to control over is not ours. It is not free. Our lives are not free to us. By virtue of living and association, we owe our lives to those who care for us and the way in which we choose to conduct and carry out our lives is not free.
I hang up after I have done all that I can, which in this case is pretty much nothing. I am spent.
