I recently read Nando Parrado´s Miracle in the Andes, a first-person account of the 1972 plane crash that took the lives of 29 Uruguayan rugby players, and launched the remaining 16 into reluctant stardom. You might remember the 1993 film "Alive." It was fact, not fiction.
Anyway, for lack of a better term, I devoured the book, hanging on every word, every harrowing moment, every attempt to stay alive. Parrado´s perspective transported me directly to the crash site, where I tried to imagine my role had I been trapped in the Andes for 72 days.
It was a futile attempt; I will never know how I would´ve reacted in that exact situation. Be that as it may, aspects of Parrado´s story resonated with me. At the time of the crash, he considered himself a dreamer: a wanderer in constant, restless search of new challenges and adventures.
As he and his childhood friends clung precariously to life—merely existing from one breath to the next—Parrado mentions a revelation, one that ultimately saved his life. It went something like this: Love is the only force worth living for and the only real adventure. His account turned the “tragedy in the Andes,” as it often referred to here, into a miracle, proving that love—the kind we feel for our family, friends, lovers, and life—is the only thing powerful enough to move us over mountains.
Anyway, for lack of a better term, I devoured the book, hanging on every word, every harrowing moment, every attempt to stay alive. Parrado´s perspective transported me directly to the crash site, where I tried to imagine my role had I been trapped in the Andes for 72 days.
It was a futile attempt; I will never know how I would´ve reacted in that exact situation. Be that as it may, aspects of Parrado´s story resonated with me. At the time of the crash, he considered himself a dreamer: a wanderer in constant, restless search of new challenges and adventures.
As he and his childhood friends clung precariously to life—merely existing from one breath to the next—Parrado mentions a revelation, one that ultimately saved his life. It went something like this: Love is the only force worth living for and the only real adventure. His account turned the “tragedy in the Andes,” as it often referred to here, into a miracle, proving that love—the kind we feel for our family, friends, lovers, and life—is the only thing powerful enough to move us over mountains.
I´d like to think I know what Parrado is talking about and that, in some small way, I´ve united my biggest adventures and challenges with the love I feel for others. The circumstances of my life may have led me far from the place I was born, but they have´t led me away from the people I love and who love me, since I seem to find both everywhere I go.
So, as 2008 transitioned seamlessly to 2009, I remembered it doesn´t take being trapped in the Andes to realize such an important lesson. It doesn´t take being far from home, and it certainly doesn´t take a new year. Each day gives us the opportunity to build a new life based on the old, in which we construct who we are and the path before us on one foundation alone: love and miracles.
My first sunrise of 2009.
1 comment:
yes dear, I think you found it! I am very proud of you Rebbecca!
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