Thang Nguyen 555

You can be up at 30,000 feet one moment, then find yourself buried in the jungle right after that. Sheer physics.

Gravity. Mechanical malfunction. Death by design or default?

But death, nevertheless.

To be searched and recovered along with plane wreckage and black box.

China Eastern flight. No survivors. No more hopes, fears and dreams for its passengers onboard.

Deaths in China, either by Covid or crash. Death in Sacramento, by mass shooting.

And of course, death in Ukraine as the Russian army retreated and boobytrapped on its way out.

Meanwhile, musicians sing on. Dream on. Romancing everything. “I need you”. “Love for sale”.

People die. Some mourn their death. Others commented with harsh words.

The best they can hope for is some lingering moments of memories, marks in history and leaving behind some residual money for loved ones.

We’ve lost a bunch of talented folks of late.

That leaves us with a new job: that of a curator of folks’ good memories.

Our life should be a sum of our contribution, of our values and of our un-choices.

People did not know that at times, living on is harder than dying off.

Yet we’re put here to finish the job. To be vocal and active in our full participation in this reality called life.

Those passengers trusted the Airline. The Airline trusted the manufacturer of airplanes. The manufacturers trusted its workers and government overseers.

We’re a link in this human chain, and chain reaction.

Until the beast nosedived. Flying toward the Sun. Melted. Reaching its limits. With speed always comes risks.

I have driven like a mad man of late. Cruising up and downhill, hugging those curves trying to drop my kid on time at her school curb.

Door-dashing.

Without the crashing.

Half way through this piece, she woke up and came out, Gave me a hug.

That’s what life is all about.

Those moments. Those memories. Those un-choices so we can have time for previously committed choices.

People don’t often realise, it’s those un-choices that make us who we are today e.g. pass those joints (or not inhale), stop at the second beer, or have someone drive you home when you know your speech starts to slur.

The plane plunged. People plunged. Death could come slowly, or suddenly.

But comes nevertheless.

It’s our choice or un-choice that buys us time. Death delayed but not death denied. It’s just is. Part of the package. The cycle that should keep us up at night, to be reminded and to be mindful during the day. and perhaps cause us to make some compassionate choices like giving a buck to the guy who holds the now-worn sign:”Need Help”.

There won’t be a lot of time as it used to be. To do good. To be good. And to exercise those un-choices.

The mark of a man is not so much the sum of his choices but the sum of his un-choices. His exercise of free will whether self-preservation or self-denial. You are here to do a job and to complete that job.

Gotta to take the kid to school on time. Promise to drive slowly and safely. Not wanting to join Eastern Airline passengers in China. Not desiring for anyone’s moment of silence, nor wanting to “pause” anyone from the work at hand.