There is no way I would ever write about this but if I were to write about this I would tell you that:
1. I think in black and white, relentlessly
2. I don't believe in God---as a matter of fact---the fact that I capitalized the G just now made me feel like a hypocrite
3. I only know that I do not know
4. If I could I would lighten up
5. On most days I believe that to suffer true and deep loss is to join a club that, although there is no turning back and is not much fun, is the only way to burst your heart open and understand that there are very few reasons for existence that happen while standing in line at CostCo
The combination of these 4 things makes for a challenging existence. By challenging I mean---on many days I feel like I am the only member of my own club and so I search for those who are like minded and when I do find a like minded one I sigh and take a step back and just nod my head in recognition because that is the way I would want it.
And despite of or because of this I feel lucky.
On NPR this weekend Ira Glass wove together such incredible stories that there were THREE TIMES I sat in my car, motionless, waiting for the end of the story. And there was one story in particular that held my interest. It was about a young boy---a teenager--- who killed a girl with his car. He was driving one way and she was riding her bike in the other and suddenly she swerved into oncoming traffic and he hit her. Her head cracked his windshield.
The way this story affected me is what I would never tell you. But if I were to tell you I would share that it is these kinds of stories---these stories about unimaginable grief and loss---that give me hope. It is these kinds of stories that I can barely listen to initially---I heard the beginning of this story on Saturday morning and finally heard the end of it on the rebroadcast this evening while I cooked dinner---that hold such comforting truth for me that I must listen to them in stages---more because I want to have that feeling of being less alone, longer.
The thing is that every time I think I know nothing I hear something that makes me feel convinced that I know everything. And on the days when I feel that the losses I have suffered are undeniable burdens in the morning---by late afternoon I am heart burst open grateful that I have experienced the losses that I have because those are the things that bring me clarity and those are the things that find me standing in my kitchen wondering about another person's journey as I would my own.
And all of this is what makes me wonder. So. I guess this is not so much a secret as a sharing and I guess I'm not so much a Black and White thinker as a Person In Search of Gray and I guess I'm not so much a person that does not believe in god as one who believes in Ira Glass.
Yours in Unending Contemplation,
Sergeant Holy Moly