The ultimate certainty

A brief post during a difficult time

I had the pleasure of speaking at the Kitchener Public Library earlier this week. The wonderful Talia Schlanger interviewed me about my book, in front of a sold-out audience. It was a joyful, rewarding experience—a rich conversation about finding hope amidst the uncertainty.

The final question of the Q&A caught me off guard a little. It was posed by a gentleman who seemed hell bent on disproving my argument that uncertainty is always twinned with possibility—and therefore a future which cannot be known is only as scary as we let ourselves believe it is, since anything is possible. “What about,” he asked, “when uncertainty is no longer possible and things are in fact certain?”

I’m not sure quite what he meant, and I don’t remember exactly how I responded, but I know it went something like this:

“As the old saying goes, nothing is certain but death and taxes. And since I’m pretty sure you’re not asking about how to handle tax season, here’s what I can say… I watched my mother die a few days ago. I sat, along with my brother, holding her hand as she faced the ultimate certainty. I also watched and listened, in her final hours on this earth, as she spoke with each of her grandchildren. She spoke about her hopes for them, her belief in all that was possible for them, her love of the life force they would carry forward after she was gone. It was beautiful and extraordinary, and absolutely bursting with possibility.”

My mother’s death is a huge loss, of course. I’m taking time for sadness and family right now, so this is all I have to write this week.

But her passing, as final and certain as it must be, strikes me as glorious example of how we have the power to choose what thoughts we hold and what possibility we embrace, in any and every circumstance. No matter what.

RIP mama

This week’s podcast episode is one of my favourites (though maybe I say that all the time…).

Cartoonist (Globe & Mail, The New Yorker) and author Gabrielle Drolet is wise and funny, remarkably so for her years. Her delightful and critically-acclaimed memoir Look Ma, No Hands was one of the best books I read last fall. It’s a gorgeous and surprisingly upbeat account of learning to live with disabling chronic pain. Her attitude toward uncertainty, and staying present in spite of an anxious future, is both comforting and delightful. I hope you enjoy our conversation.

You can also listen on Spotify or watch on YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And I’ll be live in conversation with Gabrielle Drolet later this month in Montreal. Do stop by if you’re in town! Grab a free ticket here.

Thanks, as always, for reading and listening.