August 21, 2013 When a Hero dies.

We walk into peoples lives and sometimes we can't make the difference they hope for. Sometimes we are part of a moment in time where, for them, everything stopped because they lost someone they cared for. And then we leave and carry on with our day. It's our job. We're trained. We don't know these people. We do our best. And we go to the next call.

Then when it's one of our own: Not just our family or friends, but of our EMS family, time stops. Suddenly we are more human than probably any of the people we encounter every day at work.

I've been in EMS in some capacity for seven years now. In those seven years I've felt the pain of loss from within this unique group alone at least twice as often as from all others in my thirty+ years of life.

Craig Gough, may you forever rest in peace. May all those who loved you find peace and comfort wherever they seek it. There are no words for the size or depth of your impact on all those lives you touched.

A profound chapter.

I love reading. I love discovering within a stranger's words... a camaraderie.

A very special friend, a girl who is a decade younger than me but has proven time and time again wisdom well beyond her age (and even mine) recommended this particular read.
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Since beginning this book almost a year ago (I love reading but rarely actually make time for it!) I have come across plenty of snippets of wisdom within. However today as I read a short chapter on my porcelain throne I found a significant section worthy of sharing. And so I provide it below:

The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mundane worldly order. In the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. Every religion in the world operates on the same common understandings of what it means to be a good disciple-- get up early and pray to your God, hone your cravings. We all agree that it would be easier to sleep in, and many of us do, but for millennia there have been others who choose instead to get up before the sun and wash their faces and go to their prayers. And then fiercely try to hold on to their devotional convictions throughout the lunacy of another day.

The devout of this world perform their rituals without guarantee that anything good will ever come of it. Of course there are plenty of scriptures and plenty of priests who make plenty of promises as to what your good works will yield (or threats as to the punishments awaiting you if you lapse), but to even believe all this is an act of faith, because nobody amongst us is shown the endgame. Devotion is diligence without assurance. Faith is a way of saying, "Yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding." There's a reason we refer to "leaps of faith"-- because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be-- by definition--faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy.

I'm not interested in the insurance industry. I'm tired of being a skeptic. I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and patched by empirical debate. I don't want to hear it anymore. I couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water.
(Eat, Pray, Love by E. Gilbert, Pg 175-6)