Some Days You Eat The Bear, Some Days The Bear Eats You.

I first heard that saying, when we moved out of the city to a very small town - a hamlet, really, perched on the edge of the ocean. (I remember being "downtown" in this tiny place, and looking around, wondering just what on earth I'd signed up for. I had no idea. None. It was....an experience. I was happy when we moved back to civilisation as I knew it, years later. Let's just leave it at that.)

I've always liked this saying, because it seems to contain a certain wisdom, about the rather random nature of life's vicissitudes. Life isn't fair. Things happen, and we must struggle to deal with them as best we can. Some days we manage to triumph, and we have bear steaks for dinner, feeling great satisfaction as we saw and chomp, because today, we were victorious.

In other encounters, the bear is dining on us, while we kick and scream and fight to survive. Some days, we feel as if we are still alive while he tries to rip our heart right out of our chest.

I've learned in program that I cannot eradicate all the bears from life. I cannot stop them from wanting to dine upon me and my loved ones. I can use my common sense and good judgement to be careful, but this must be within the framework of a life worth living, and not so bounded on all sides by fortification that the sun is blocked out in the name of aiming for safety.

For the rest, I will rage and weep and rail, against fate and life and the cruelty of illness and death at stealing the people I love away, and then when I am finished weeping, and am spent and exhausted, I will work to accept that which I cannot change.