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Notes from the Small Pond...Optimism

When the really, crappy, scary stuff happens, people gather around and say that it's a blessing in disguise and a left-handed compliment and a door closing but a window opening... I love that Glass-Half-Full stuff, and I need to hang around more ...

When the really, crappy, scary stuff happens, people gather around and say that it’s a blessing in disguise and a left-handed compliment and a door closing but a window opening… I love that Glass-Half-Full stuff, and I need to hang around more of those folks, so, if you’re one of those, call me.

But the “window” instead of a “door” thing has me wondering. Why is the alternative, the supposed “blessing,” only a window and not another door? I’d sure as heck rather walk through a door than climb through a window. What’s the “blessing?”  …being a burglar and stealing an opportunity through the window?

Sometimes when really bad stuff happens it’s because there needs to be a reckoning. A leveling. Other times it’s just because the world is broken and broken is just broken and fairness and justice has nothing to do with it. It ain’t funny. Or entertaining. Or interesting. Or worthy of insightful introspection. It just is. Like rocks in a field. There’s surely a reason. But it doesn’t matter. It just is.

And is.

And when it’s on us there’s an almost relieved sense of being because we knew it was coming all along - of course it was, because it always does - and now that it’s finally here - the cancer, the divorce, the unemployment, the rehab, the foreclosure, the funeral, the Alzheimer’s…once it’s finally on us, the rest - everything before and after, is ancillary. And minor.

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Then someone calls and says: “I heard.” And “I’m sorry.” And “I love you.” And even though it’s still on you, at least you’re you and not the one saying “I’m sorry” and “I heard,” and waiting for it to be them to be called. You’re the one with the curse, so you - the cursed - can get on with the task of getting redeemed or saved or sober or employed or healthy or sane. It’s something. It’s something to absorb your concentration. Your passion. And even if you lose, die, stay addicted or unemployed or homeless or divorced or depressed or insane. If you do…Well then, it’s the glass half empty. The way of the world, which remains beautiful and broken with or without you and your hassles. But at least you’re you and no one else.

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