I want to write about fragility, but the words are elusive as the subject matter.

I read a post, a few weeks ago, about embracing fragility and my ears have been burning ever since. Both the word and the reality of it are suddenly everywhere. I am fine tuned to the impermanence and unknowability of it all. The gossamer threads that link us and the things that change on the turn of the wind. The fact that there is very little, really, that we can hold onto.



The post (which I have searched high and low for) caught my attention because it positioned fragility as beautiful – and yet, to me, it has always come with fear. Fragility means that something can break. That it can disappear. That it is there, for a little while; and then, poof, with the touch of a feather it is gone.

This has never struck me as particularly beautiful.

The ambiguity reminded me of a poem by Emily Dickinson that left me feeling equally perplexed –  

“That it will never come again

Is what makes life so sweet”

Here too, I have found myself unable to relate. Bitter sweet feels more accurate though maybe the tension comes from focusing on the loss; from trying to clasp something so delicate –

I wonder if the fear would ebb, if I just stood back? If acknowledging the beauty of fragility is what removes the struggle? If it is the thing that allows people to take risks, and live with uncertainty, and not get tangled up in trying to pin things that can’t be pinned down down?

I have made a deal with myself that this is what I will do.

Stand back. Accept the fragility of it all. Resist the urge to make  things that are inherently uncertain, certain. Engage with life on life’s terms, rather than getting caught up in a fight. Live for the moment –

I have got the theory but the practice has me stumped.


6 responses to “Fragility

  1. I love the concepts you present in this post – I think in some ways it is about appreciating what you have while you have it rather than focusing on the loss you will feel once it is gone. It’s like loving a wonderful sunny day rather than bemoaning the fact that it will be rainy tomorrow. If you get wrapped up in worrying about its fragility or unusualness then you miss the best part.

    Just my two cents…

    • Love your two cents. And yes – staying present is the key. Find it quite challenging but think it gets easier the more you do it. Or that’s the theory I’m working on 🙂

  2. I think fragility can be beautiful at the right times. We need to be strong and certain but being fragile means we’re living, you know?
    Love this Issa.

    • Thanks 🙂 It’s interesting that you mention the right times – I guess that’s the precarious part of it all. Sometimes it’s fine, and sometimes, it’s just too hard to take the risk, or so it feels. I think you’re right about the living bit – I only noticed the fragility when I stopped existing within such tight constraints.

  3. I’ll be very interested to hear how you go with this. It may be demanding I think

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