I heard about a book–or movie, news story, disease, unexpected occurrence–this morning while half listening to NPR that an announcer, interviewer, or talk show guest called “life-altering.” The adjective “life-altering” caught my attention, but neither its object nor the speaker did, because the use of “life-altering” seemed arbitrary.
Although a “system” exists for calling something life-altering and includes matters of loss and gain and of life and death, that system feels pat, both too inclusive and not inclusive enough. Too inclusive: a new job, a firing, a retirement; marrying and divorcing; giving birth or expiring are life-altering because they mark what people consider to be monumental, grand, or absolutely memorable. Not inclusive enough: everything is life-altering because individuals’ reactions–or non-reactivity–to all that comes their way leaves a subconscious imprint.
Petite, unimposing, forgotten–no matter. The small composes the large, the ephemeral composes the earth-shattering, and quintessentially prosaic acts and impressions, whether old and latent, superficial and seemingly forgotten and inconsequential, or unconscionably self-critical, determine life alterations, what human beings call fate.