It's hard to find, that small pink flower, that bright spot amidst all the tangles of tall grass and taller trees, all grown together in a maze of bramble.
When you're tearing your hair out, or at the bottom of your heart with nothing to draw on, or when you've gone around the same U-Turn 16 times, literally or figuratively, or when your heart is broken, plans gone astray, or when the unimaginable happens. When you are so far down/in/enmeshed. When you barely see the road in front of you.
At those moments, with our heads down, we sometimes say, "Everything happens for a reason," and sort of half heartedly hope that it will be revealed down the road. We assure ourselves by reminding ourselves of the master plan or the grand scheme of things, convincing ourselves that the suffering is for a purpose and therefore, we can bear it.
Tonight, I was driving around in circles with 42 kinds of technology failing me, dying to get home to my baby, way behind schedule, tired, hungry - not a big deal, just one of those human condition times but an aggravating one. I felt old destructive behavior arise. I felt ragingly angry, my Little Me/Ego just rarin' to go. Blaming the world, yelling at my GPS (we do actually need to have a talk because that was ridiculously poor performance), becoming angry at other drivers... Old patterns of feelings and thoughts.
Then the Observer in me, the river of consciousness that is more and more available as the days go on, kindly stepped in and opened a tiny crack of awareness in me. Through the crack, I was able to peer into the silly tiny mess I'd gotten myself into and take a half a conscious breath. A word floated to the surface: "Why?"
And the answer for my silly little situation arose to meet me.
What would happen if we conjectured more often, in the midst of madness?
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