Wings to Fly

Reading is a luxury when you work full-time, raise four kids, and write on the side. So when an associate passed me The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby to read just for fun, I didn’t hold much hope of cracking the cover. But once opened, I was hooked on the final journey of this stroke victim, whose active mind lie trapped in an inert body. The blink of his left eye the only method of communication, Bauby details the frustration, despair, and loneliness of his “locked-in” condition that instead of defeating him only heightened his appreciation for life.

As a writer, I found myself almost envious of the many adventures he lived in his own mind. His universe had no limits. He created and destroyed his own reality with the simple turn of a thought. He could have obsessed over the unfairness of his illness, the injustice of life and God. Yet, more often than not, he looked with fond humor at the past and present.

That got me thinking. How many of us have able bodies and sound minds and yet exercise no control over our attitudes and mind-sets? We’ve become victims of our own emotions. Our lives are a continual reaction to stimuli rather than the result of in-depth planning and measured action.

And where Bauby pondered and massaged each sentence before blinking the letters to his interpreter, so many are guilty of blurting out thoughtless strings of words, with regret only moments behind. Looking back, there have been times in my life when I wish my left eye had been my only method of communication. Scads of hurtful words would have remained unspoken, the effort to utter them greater than the desire to wound.

In a sense, many of us are walking, talking sufferers of our own “locked-in” syndrome. How can the butterfly break free of the diving bell? It really comes down to personal choice, mental exercise, and restraint. With plenty of books, programs, and support groups available to make the job easier, there’s no reason not to get started right away.

I’ll admit I’ve got a long way to go to get rid of my diving bell. But like Bauby, I quit looking back with regret at my many mistakes. Instead, my only regrets are missed opportunities. And when those second chances come along, I’ll be wearing my wings.