Augie's Quest: Letting go of something to find ourselves
Today I saw a television interview with Augie Nieto, the cofounder of Life Fitness who was diagnosed in 2005 with ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. First interviewed by the same reporter a year ago, Nieto had walked along the beach with her, talking about the disease, his suicide attempt in the wake of his diagnosis, and his efforts to cope with his diagnosis and changes in his life since then.

In the studio today, a year after that interview, Nieto was unable to walk, barely able to articulate words. "I'm in a wheelchair," he managed to push through lips frozen by his disease, "but my mind is better than ever." The reporter couldn't stop crying, and neither could he. I cried, too, and almost changed the channel, but then I remembered a hard-won lesson -- when I reject someone else's pain, I'm also rejecting my own. And the longer I sat there, watching them cry and crying with them, the more I noticed how much softer he had become. Even just a year ago, Nieto was still a tanned, imposing figure, commanding the attention he must have grown accustomed to throughout his life and career. Now, his skin has faded into its natural color. His face is relaxed, his expressions organic and unforced. He still draws attention, not by command but by simple existence.

As he cried, Nieto wore his pain openly and without apology. It was so … easy doesn't seem quite the right word, because clearly this is not an easy transformation, but he couldn't fight himself. He's gradually losing any illusion he's had of control. This is the embodiment of the feminine -- chaos, unpredictability, being rather than doing, the natural world -- that we so often resist.

I think this transformation must be especially difficult for someone like Nieto, whose identity was wrapped up in his ability to manage, to produce, to get the job done. His diagnosis meant the death of his ability to do. His initial suicidality is understandable, because so many of us wonder, "If I'm not what I do, than who am I?"

And that's the question, isn't it? Who are we, underneath our words and deeds? What would we find if we loosened our attachment to our labels -- parent, spouse, lover, professional, student, friend, traveler, recluse, socialite -- and just hung out with ourselves?

Posted by Mara Applebaum at November 7, 2007
http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/s...ves/125270.asp