Lord, I guess if ever I was supposed to deliver a blog post that ruminated in optimism then this should probably be it, right?
…and I stare at the page and just huff….
I’ve got one hand under the chin, the other hand tapping on the top of my desk, ready to type, just not sure of what. My face is twisted in to the painful gaze of a philosopher.
I type….I backspace. I type something else, then backspace again. Nothing sounds right, nothing sounds real, everything I write sounds like it came out of a can. And when it does sound real and homemade it is poisoned with just a pinch of paranoia.
Why? Well, because I’ve never had to write about optimism in a time of fatality. Fatality sounds like such a strong word, but I have to use it. Oh, that’s not sensationalism, that’s just….reality.
So, I turn to my own religious heroes for inspiration.
Mother Angelica would say, “You shouldn’t fear death, nor the end of the world….I’m not afraid to die and meet Jesus. But, personally I’d like another 20 years before that happens….”
Girl. Me, too.
And Then Thomas Merton who had left his monastic hermitage for the first time in 30 years, met the Dalai Lama, discussed a spiritual bridge between the two faiths to stop the war in Vietnam. At a speech at that conference he said, “It’s every man for himself, brother.” He died a few hours later after accidentally electrocuting himself.
Then you’ve got the Buddhist who’ll say, “If worrying accomplishes nothing, then why worry?”
Then you have the Jews have already suffered enough. You think you have social distancing problems? Well, go tell that to Anne Frank.
“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
…and you read that KNOWING she’s going to die in a VERY cruel way.
Now, just pause for a second. Take a breath. Give it a second. Now, proceed….
So, my life has changed only slightly in comparison to her’s. I went out only rarely, but now, not going out at all. Phillip is now going to get the groceries. He’s bigger, stronger, more immune. I’m not so much.
He came back one day with groceries…and a little dinosaur planter. Yes, this cute, simple little nick-nack intended (I guess) for the tiniest of plants.
“I had to have it.”
People are nose diving into grocery stores to buy peanut butter and toilet paper…and my husband comes home with cookies, ice cream, and a pterodactyl planter. The minute I saw it I was ready to whoop his ass for wasting money on something so silly….then I thought about it.
And all I could think of was Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park.
“Life finds a way….”
You’re in inclined as a writer to just keep typing when you feel you’ve got it. That’s why we need editors (still in need of one!) to reel us back and make us focus. So, as a writer I was inclined to expand with delightful, arrogant, philosophical tone about the meaning of “Life finds a way….”
But, that would be stupid. It says everything. And I feel so much better now. I hope you will, too.
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