You know what saying I have outgrown?
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Really? Then, what’s the reason?
Seriously, I need to know.
Because to me, reason implies logic and logic implies dots somehow connecting and right now, I am seeing a bunch of black dots just floating around, willy-nilly.
How about this saying, instead?
“Everything happens because it just does.”
Some days, from out of nowhere, we’re handed a bouquet of flowers.
And some days, from out of nowhere, we’re handed a bag of shit.
We have no choice in the matter.
And it’s okay, if when we are handed our very own, personal bag of shit, to just drop it on the floor. To maybe kick it around the room until we are exhausted. To even lock it in the closet for a week. And maybe after that, to place it on our neighbor’s doorstep, light it on fire, ring the doorbell, and run like hell.
|This is an actual flaming, bag of shit on a doorstep. I didn't leave it.|
Because eventually, we will lay claim to our bag of shit. We will pick it up and we will carry it because we know that we never had a choice because we seldom do. And we know that the dropping, kicking, trespassing, and felony arson charges were just the beginning of the excruciating, often life-long ritual called acceptance.
Some days our bags will feel lighter and some days our bags will feel heavier and they will always stink; and we will likely carry this stinky weight for most of the days of the rest of our lives.
Except on some days, when we are handed a bouquet of flowers.
Because on some days, if we are lucky, from out of nowhere; we will be lifted. By a bouquet of flowers or by a letter in our mailbox or by the laughter of friends, we will be lifted.
And our bag of shit will seem to disappear completely, if only for a moment.
Because everything happens because it just does.
|See you in November, dear Julie!|