Imagine the universe is a cosmic garden of living beings. Flowers, oceans, galaxies, dogs, mermaids, starfish, brussel sprouts, mushrooms, sisters, brothers, suns. Each living being expresses itself through an infinite mathematical formula designed by a Creator who accounted for the fact that each formula for each living being had the free will to effect the beings around it. Sunflowers can look away or face it. We can whine or shine. Trees can grip the earth by shooting out deep roots or end up shallow and tip over at the slightest breeze. In other words we’re Products of Providential Probability. X equals I don’t know why but sometimes we see.
For instance, humans eat all the cows so the planet keeps getting hotter. I used all the hairspray in the 80’s so there’s a hole in the sky. Sorry. Some people have all the unprotected sex so there’s lots of accidental babies who become adults who feel like accidents. Crude tycoons tried saving money by switching to Geico and accidentally spilled all the oil in the ocean. You’re texting while walking, walk right into a pole and bonk your head. The class jackass punches you but instead of punching him back you tell him you get it, he has attachment issues because he’s got an absent, verbally abusive father and you’re sorry his mom died having her third nose job. Then you offer him half of your No Evil Foods, pulled vegan-pork sandwich smothered in coleslaw and he has the emotional breakthrough he didn’t even know he needed.
Each time one living being physically, emotionally or psycho-spiritually interacts with another living being it produces a simultaneous chain reaction. I fully admit to death staring at the slow car in front of me which seems to appear every time I’m trying to get anywhere in this lifetime. Our action or reaction sets into motion the consequence of the hurt and the spontaneous initiation of healing. Regenerative cells live in all organic matter, which can’t be created or destroyed. I’m still trying to figure out how that applies to things we manufacture, like poles, cars, houses and the biggest mystery of all: Sham-Wow’s. Alien technology straight out of Florida.
Since the very first hurt we’ve been in a cosmic game of dominoes. In one direction the dominoes are being knocked down. In the other other direction they’re being re-set. The entire game lives inside a spiral because my Italian step-grandma Jenny snuck wine into heaven in her crochet bag and gave God the spins so she could try and win. At least, I think that was her strategy when I was in high school.
Resilience can’t be measured using oversimplified checklists with questions about whether or not someone is nice or strong because healing from trauma is as mysterious as belly buttons and as complicated as algebra; the super advanced algebra with those symbols that look like hieroglyphs which Word calls wingdings which I thought were second cousins of cupcakes.
Life can’t be measured on a checklist. There’s no one-size fits all prescription for self-actualization because there’s a biopsychosocialspiritual formula as big as the ever-expanding universe. Biopsychosocialspiritual, say it five times fast. Add cultural. Add croutons. Subtract acne, periods and calories. Pretend God is a math teacher and he whispered parts of the formula to different people throughout history but never planned on letting us see the whole thing; just enough to keep us guessing. We’re probably not meant to solve it, but isn’t it worth considering? What if we find clues that help us heal faster; like putting aloe on a cut, getting EMDR, learning to meditate, realizing you’re an introvert and small talk actually sucks the life of you. What if we find a clue that helps us understand why we’re all here and we find out it has nothing to do with presidents, sports, front lawns, Fulfillment Centers or accidental cleavage selfies.
The good news is, despite repeated patterns of traumatic abominations throughout human history so many of us, by continually doing the best we can in spite of genocide, colonization, rapes, slavery, systemic oppression or chapped lips, are living proof.
Here’s the research that inspired this post:
ps: Hi! My head was going to explode if I didn’t write this. Thankfully I had a minute because our hot water heater died this morning forcing me to shower at the gym. I’m excited to shower tonight at home with our new tank. Apparently the one we had was from the 70’s which explains why, for the past six years, I can’t wash my gaur and shave my legs in the same shower. I’m ready for the revolution.
The egg is acrylic and watercolor on paper. It doesn’t have a name yet.