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There Are Days…

 

{Photo: Adas Meliauskas via 500px.com}

{Photo: Adas Meliauskas via 500px.com}

“Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.”
~ A Course in Miracles

There are days where the world will break your heart. I don’t mean that you will be sad or disappointed or even angry. I don’t mean that your feelings will be hurt or that you will sob into a pillow. I don’t mean that you will be so depressed you won’t want to get out of bed or talk to anyone.

I mean that your heart will break. It will bleed out right on the desk, the floor, the kitchen table. And the pain in your chest will be so great that you’ll think you cannot bear it. And everywhere you look, everything you read, every conversation you have will feel like peroxide being poured onto an open wound. I mean that you will not be able to see any future that is habitable, because everything will seem irreparably broken. The meanness of the human race will appear beyond comprehension.

You will question every ounce of your idealism. In your disillusion, you’ll be painfully aware of the destructive nature of children, of how their inhumane treatment of one another suddenly explains all the world’s woes.

And you’ll realize that everyone you know is just a child in grown up clothes, with more responsibilities than they are capable of handling, throwing the occasional toddler’s tantrum that is passed off as either righteous indignation or hormonal vicissitudes.

And that their poor treatment of other humans is exactly the same thing as the over-sized playground bully ruthlessly making the younger kids cry with his taunting and name-calling.

The rich getting richer, the greedy greedier, the hard-working even more marginalized. The sick, more in debt. Meanwhile the insurance companies steal our money, month after month. The banks take our houses and then take some more.

And Congress and our President are impotent to do anything about it. In fact, they hand over our lunch money to the oil companies, the garden itself to Monsanto, and whatever is left to the NRA, you know, for protection.

The world is mean. That is all there is. Meanness. And the occasional bout of insomnia which shakes us from our chronic slumber of unawareness to acknowledge our inability to do anything about it just before we fall asleep again, exhausted.

There are days where the world will not only break your heart, but tear it out of your chest, stomp on it, and set it on fire, right before your dumbstruck eyes. And you won’t know what to do.

And I won’t know what to tell you to make it any better. And I probably won’t even have enough money to buy you a beer you can cry into.

And yet somehow, somehow, you will find a different set of days. In those days, the sun will be warm on your skin. Though there will still be a few clouds, just enough to allow the colors all around you to reveal themselves. And your world will be saturated with beauty. You’ll get buzzed by a hummingbird on your morning walk. And the green and yellow foothills will spread their beauty across the horizon as if just for you.

These are the days that are true. This is what is real. All else is nonsense dreamt up by small minds and feeble imaginations. All else is illusion.

Come with me. Let’s live all our days saturated in beauty.

 

*****

{This is your life.}

 

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Rebelle Society
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