The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly. (Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah)
Lately I’ve been drawn to books with a common theme. “What Would You Do If You Had No Fear,” “The Secret,” and “Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah” all seem to be telling me the same thing: to believe in the power of good, to envision my life in a certain way and so it shall be, ask and you shall receive. The truth is I want to believe. It’s such an empowering feeling to think that I can will things in my direction or away from me. That the universe is working to keep me happy. That happiness is the default setting in each of our lives. I want to believe but it’s hard when people are dying of cancer or bullet wounds. It’s impossible when I walk by a homeless man in Georgetown bundled up in the freezing cold. Why won’t he just wish happiness upon himself?
The thing is I think he’s probably doing it every minute of every day. He can’t be wishing for much else. Tough stuff. Yet in my life whenever I’ve had these positive days when I expect things to work, they have. There’s something about my frame of mind when I set out to reign supreme that forces me to believe that we’re spending too much time and energy expecting things to go wrong. I wonder then if it’s true – that happiness is meant for each of us and anything different is an exception to the rule.
I certainly have the privilege to mull over these existential questions while others are out living them. I want to believe. I really, really do.
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