Down from the Door Where it Began*

A January morning - specifically the 26th. A month away from my 72nd birthday. Lying in bed this morning I traveled back in time to my childhood. Not literally -- mentally and, I suppose, emotionally as well. I thought of various events and circumstances, some of which were delightful and some of which could only be described as embarrassingly painful. Most everybody has that mix of remembrances, so I am not devastated by thoughts of my past by any means.

I'm sure you're familiar with that classic reflective comment that goes "If I only knew then what I know now!" Some of that was going on in my brain until I came to my senses with the intrusion of Truth: That's not how life works...never did, never will. But still, I couldn't help replaying on the screen of my mind certain moments of my childhood and imagining how I may have been or what I might have said had I actually known then what I know now. It's a stretch, to tell you the truth. 

Naturally, I had all the right comebacks. And, of course, I was in complete control of every situation. I was a grade school wonder student to be admired by all and I was a super athlete that amazed others by my speed and prowess. (You are following this, aren't you? I'm talking about in my mind, not in reality.) 
The things by which I was embarrassed were eradicated--never happened--and the things that I shouldn't have done, I never did. And, of course, the things I should have done, I did without hesitation or second thoughts.

Then another thought came to my mind: it was time to make the coffee...to wake up to reality and to accept the fact that my life was what it was and is what it is because of what I was. Does that make sense? In other words, it played out exactly the way it was supposed to because of who and what I am.
My story and your story are but an unfolding of our unique purposeful presence in the world. 

Then I thought of a line from one of my favorite plays by Thornton Wilder, Our Town. Emily is a young girl who has died but is given permission to revisit one of her days on earth. She chooses the day of her 12th birthday, but it turns out to be a very disappointing, even painful experience. No one pays any attention to her because they are so busy doing other things. She asks the Stage Manager, "Doesn't anyone ever realize life while they live it?"

The coffee was good, and so has been and is my life. Some lessons have been hard and painful, others joyful and pleasant. And one thing I know for sure: I am still far from perfect at the almost age of 72, but it's okay because I was never intended to be perfect. And that is a universal truth that applies to the whole human family.

[*The title comes from a song by Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit.]

On the Mediterranean

After-dinner conversation. Topic: you never know. Ancient Chinese folktale:

A farmer had a beautiful horse who was the envy of all his neighbors. One day the horse disappeared for no apparent reason. His neighbors came by to comfort him. They said, "We're so sorry to hear about your horse. This is such bad news!
The farmer said, "We'll see."
A week later, his horse returned with twenty beautiful wild horses. The neighbors said to him, "Congratulations! This is such good news!"
The farmer said, "We'll see."
One day soon after, the farmer's son was attempting to break in one of the wild horses, but the horse threw him off and he broke his leg.
The neighbors said to the farmer, "We're so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset."
The farmer said, "We'll see."
War broke in the country and all young men were being drafted. That is, all young men except the farmer's son, who had a broken leg. The neighbors said to the farmer, "Congratulations! This is such good news!"
The farmer said, "We'll see."

The after-dinner conversation came to an agreeable conclusion: In life, we too easily decide that something is ultimately good or bad, based upon a present moment reality. In fact, many things that have appeared to be bad or even terrible have led to something very good in our lives. i.e.-celebrate or grieve depending on the situation, but don't give up on the ultimate goodness of Divine intentions. We are all on a journey, but not alone.

If you want to think more about this, I suggest Wayne Dyer's book I Can See Clearly Now.

[After a sabbatical from writing for the last several months, doing other things, I am returning to my blog.]