Yesterday I was angry, and I wrote a 'piece' in my notebook some would call a journal. An inelegant piece.
Now that I am expletive-depleted and poor from over-contribution to the swear jar, I can write something a little less savage.
While I was inventing destinations where the Universe and Karma could insert themselves, it occurred to me that I didn't use any four-letter attacks on God.
That's easily explicable. I don't believe in God. I am an atheist. Well ... I think I may have just decided to insert the word "Universe" in place of the word God, (name, word, ?) and I think this fairly squarely places me in a roosting place called Agnosticism. Whether I be swearing at, thanking, praying for help ... I'm sure that saying "universe" isn't really that much of a departure from saying the alternative. But I will preen my feathers in this roosting place for a while anyway because it's more comfortable for me.
I'd frankly rather believe in fairies, but I'm not sure they have the omnipresence, the ultimate power to help.
Well, nothing helped yesterday anyway. Praying to either of my omnipotent assistors did nothing. Bringing me to the point of 'blame'. If I can't blame the Universe or God, because some Taoist once said "God is not responsible", then how do I get through this particular cycle of my tragic emotion without self-destructing by pointing imperious finger inward?
Maybe I'm not cut out for Zen or the Tao. Maybe somethings can't be accepted by me. Maybe this yin-yang didn't have any yin yesterday, or maybe yesterday there was too much yang. Maybe the Universe was busy saving someone else's situation and its all-knowing, all-seeing power missed me and mine. Maybe God was looking elsewhere too. Maybe I was right yesterday and Karma was being a bit of a bitch.
Anyway, before I crafted this mild-mannered, prosaic flip-side to yesterday's smite-provoking outpouring from my fragmented chest cavity, I did think about the heart. I can't give anyone a number, but mine's been broken a few times. Possibly to be broken a few more. And don't hate me cliche-haters ... but I think I've come round to the point of "what doesn't kill ya, makes ya stronger". I think that each time it breaks, the binding that mends it makes it better, allows it to yield more, allows it to cope more.
So if you're heart's broken and you're afraid to love again, to have another baby, to try for that goal you missed last time, try anyway. Your heart might break again, but not as bad. It's made of resilience and it's tougher than our puny brain thinks it is.
