Humanity has a habit of going along on autopilot thinking our lives are always going to be this way.
And then something happens.
- A tornado hits.
- Terrorists attack.
- A virus spreads.
We panic. We protest. We scream.
We show up at state capitols armed and ready to take out anyone who doesn’t do what we believe is our fundamental right to do.
Beliefs are challenged.
Grief is collective and widespread.
People get hurt.
People get sick.
People die.
We don’t want to change. We are desperate to have life go back to the way it was despite knowing all too well and good that we weren’t that thrilled with the way things were then.
We like to tell ourselves that, though. A temporary balm for the burn.
Tossing prayers into the sky, we insist that this time will be different.
“We’ll be better! We promise! We won’t be bad or thoughtless or mean or self-centered or angry or careless again if you just make this all go away!”
And then something happens.
No one makes this go away.
It’s still there when we open our eyes.
Our hearts are still heavy.
Our minds are a giant kaleidoscope of random thoughts we keep spinning to see if we can make a new pattern in the tiny house of mirrors we call reality.
And then something happens.
For a few moments, we look outside.
Outside, it’s business as usual.
Birds tweet. Bunnies hop. Squirrels jump from branch to branch then run along fence lines. Geese fly north. Cows moo in the pasture. The sun rises in the morning and sets at night. Stars come out, filling the velvet tapestry of sky with tiny diamonds of light.
When it seems like we can’t count on anything, we have that.
For a few moments in what feels like an impossible situation, we do indeed have that.
