None of us had a say in being here.
Every now and then I think about that. Does it matter, though? I suppose one could use this as an excuse for being reckless and self-involved. A cop-out, as in, “I had zero say in being here, so no one is going to tell me how to live my life!”
Is there some cosmic reason for each life? Is each adorned with intrinsic meaning and value and purpose? Or do we have to manufacture those things for ourselves? Sometimes I feel like we can live our lives any way we want, and to hell with status quo and trying to impress.
But then I think about the movie I watched recently- Selma– and all my selfishness and me-first thinking seems so small-minded. Not everyone gets thrust into an MLK role. Since we’re here, though, we should be looking out for one another.
But what if we get to the point where everything is healed? What then? What would be left to do? Would life be interesting? Or would we just get bored, looking for reasons to get angry, looking for scapegoats, hoping for something or someone to gripe about? Could we handle the peace and tranquility?
It seems there will always be good and bad. Healing and wholeness will never be total in this life. There will always be struggle. So, good news?