If you are jealous of another woman, it is only because you don't know her well. People who have suffered envy no one. Once you touch the ugly guts of a lovely facade, there's no enchantment with a beautiful lie.
Experience suffering and we can no longer deceive ourselves. Or deny the lies of others. It's as though this knowledge removes filters to elegant deceptions. Indignant anger turns into cool acceptance.
Our job as successful members of society is to suffer in silence. With a quiet dignity, we wait for this tragedy to pass and its grief to end. Like a red scar, it fades in time. Invisible to all; indelible to us.
We each hurt, wounded inside. Pain is more patient than we are. Loss is inevitable in our lives. We cannot avoid the inexorable truth.
Along our path, we pick up a story to tell. We pray our tale is not told in vain. For others, it remains a secret to keep. A source of shame.
We cannot allow ourselves to become numb. The pain subsides. I promise you. It does. You are not alone.
When we are young, there is tremendous shine on the shell, and a squishy softness in the middle. At some point in maturity, we realize how tender we are on the outside, and how solid is our core. Reality, it seems, turns inside out.
Now you know. The only thing worth fighting for is life itself. Everything else is disposable. Ego, image, vanity. These feints at self-importance are mere delusions and wasteful expenditures.
These lessons came at a cost, though. It is well worth the price I paid. However, it is an involuntary tax imposed on experience.
In the crucible of my time, I asked God "Why me? I'm not Job. I don't matter." The moment was wasted on me. But not for long. It had to matter. This is not for nothing. It can't be.
I started to take an inventory. What was lost? What remains? What next?
Accounting for my meager blessings, I started to be thankful. Then I started seeing goodness all around me. For everything I lost, I regained each of the losses as a tenfold gain. It's as though gratitude is a form of tithing, like mental money.
As I account for the losses, I am amazed at what remains. Good things endure, however ephemeral they seem to be. What survived the storm? Happiness. Love. Talent.
How did these survive? Because they are internal qualities. It is found within me, as if each are a seed in our soul. As such, they can never be taken away. They cannot be given away, either. Only thrown away as ingrattitude.
I thank God every day for what I have. I'm thankful for all that He left for me to rebuild of my life. It's not mansions in paradise and winning lottery tickets, either. But the trials are over, or so it seems. A reprieve is good enough for me.
One thing I know: storm as it might, I'm still standing. Isn't that what we really wonder of ourselves? In the event of a distaster, can I survive? If I survive, will I ever thrive?
Ockham's Razor states that when you hear the sound of hooves - think horses, not zebras. But what if the sound of hooves you hear is The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? That's easy - think zebras, not horses.
Laugh in face of fear. Why not? Imagine the fearsome Pestilence, War, Famine, and Disease clopping along on their little zebras. The imagery is pretty funny. Tragedy has a humor all its own. Thank God.
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