Here’s a neat Spanish-Canadian connection: Margaret Atwood just won the 2008 Príncipe de Asturias prize for Literature, which is almost as good as winning a Nobel (there have been a few winners of both awards over the years, such as Doris Lessing).

That 50.000€ is worth around $80,000 Canadian! Maybe not as good as the 10 million Swedish kronor ($1.7M Cdn) you get for the Nobel, but still a good bit of cash for a writer… (-; I’m sure it’s a drop in the bucket, though, compared to her royalty earnings.

Good job, Margaret!

Earlier this week, I was reminded of the importance of living life to the full, and of doing it now, and every day. I know of Randy Pausch (a virtual reality and computer education pioneer) through the work I used to do, and have seen him present academic papers on several occasions. I hadn’t heard that he was dying of cancer, nor that he had made a remarkable, inspiring (and now quite famous) “last lecture” back in September (you can see the lecture in full on YouTube or Google Video).

Happily, Randy has outlived the doctors’ forecasts from last August, but he is still dying of cancer (his treatments now are to slow it, not cure it). In the meantime, he speaks openly and inspiringly about it, is living a remarkably full life, fulfilling many childhood dreams and enjoying every remaining day of “bonus time” with his wife and three kids.

Then today, on CBC’s Tapestry podcast, I listened to a rebroadcast interview (recorded in 2004) with Irish poet and scholar John O’Donohue. This inspirational man died unexpectedly at 53 years of age, on January 3, 2008. His words (in the interview as well as in his poetry and essays) often touch on death, eerily enough.

At one point in the interview, he addressed the idea of dying as possibly being similar to birth. If you could present a baby in the womb with an account of what would happen to them: they would be forced to leave the familiar comfort of the womb; they’d go through a frightening, possibly painful and claustrophobic tunnel, into a blinding light; they’d have their connection to the only life they’ve known permanently severed and then…into the unknown. Likely the baby would be terrified and beg to stay put. But…guess what? They would miss out on the chance to experience life in this world. Could the “rebirth”, that is death, be similar? Certainly it is similarly scary, but perhaps this parallel, knowing what we know “on this side” of birth, may be similarly comforting.

One beautiful and simple poem, with which he closed the interview, seemed to sum up his philosophy perfectly (humble apologies if the formatting is incorrect; I’ve only heard it recited, not seen it in print):

[Side note: Interestingly, ¿El qué? — which literally translates as “the what?” — is an expression I hear often in Spanish (perhaps because of the way I speak?). It essentially means, in English, “What?” (or perhaps: “Say whaaaaaat?” ;-) Used to express confusion, misunderstanding, like a mildly-irritated version of: “I beg your pardon?” And no, nothing to do with the hereafter-mentioned Sudanese book…]

Indeed, what is it, you may ask? Well, at least now I have some small idea, as I just finished reading the book of that title, by Dave Eggers. It is the bleak, depressing (yet strangely hopeful) story of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the “Lost Boys” who survived civil war and genocide in Sudan, eventually being taken in by the United States. Valentino’s site (I feel like I know him, now, and am on a first name basis ;-) has some interesting information on his Foundation (all proceeds from the book go to aiding Sudanese in America and Sudan), and more about the complex history and ongoing problems in Sudan.

His life is an example of survival against all odds (yes, an over-used expression, but absolutely true in his case); of optimism and faith in the face of the world’s sheer cruelty. Fortunately, there have been some happy moments, and some truly wonderful people in his life — without these, I hate to imagine how he would have kept going. I was amazed by his resiliency, his inspiring combination of “naïveté” and strength. I hope things started going better in his life after the conclusion of the book (it seems so — that he has travelled back to his hometown of Marial Bai, has contact with his parents who amazingly are still alive, is running his Foundation, speaking, educating and inspiring others). This is the kind of story that makes you feel fortunate to “only” have whatever little problems you’ve had in life, and inspires you to be a “good person”: to contribute light and hope into the world, rather than misunderstanding, fear and hatred.

Last week, as I was reading What Is the What, I heard that the Canadian government had earmarked another $48M to support African Union peacekeeping efforts in the Darfur region, where the hell continues today in spite of the 2005 peace agreement (which brought relative stability to some parts of Sudan).

The Canadian government has a Sudan site — there you can find out more about what Canada is doing in Sudan. Also, here is a backgrounder on Sudan, from the CBC.