Poets and mystics have long pointed to the notion that every single thing is an integral part of the perfection that is… life.
By ‘perfection’, we’re not just talking about things that makes use warm, fluffy, fuzzy, and happy inside. That would only be half — at best — of the grand puzzle.
I’m talking famines, lice, tics, rashes, boils, poverty, constipation, cancer, end-of-days-style weather, senseless crime, fraud, deceit, bad coffee, unexpected phone calls from your kid’s teacher, warm beer, the Hallmark channel, botched haircuts, reruns of Maury Povich at the dentist, bad hair, stubbed toes, bitten tongues, and chicken pox.
I’m also talking about that unexpected windfall from your industrialist grandfather, all green lights in one day, that perfect parking spot at Trader Joe’s, straight-A’s, expressed love from your child, winning at Scrabble, cleansing bowel movements, groundbreaking conversations, raises at work, and dying in your sleep the evening after running a 5k at the age of 85.
And sandwiched in between those things is… you. The divine bubble of your consciousness. In that sacred space lives your innate desire to improve conditions.
Your desire to improve conditions is part of the grand perfection of life.
We’re constantly being called to step up.
This won’t ever stop. Life won’t ever stop asking for more through us.
So we may as well just relax into our roles, right? Stop stressing about it so much.
Maybe then we could just put one foot in front of the other and engage with life knowing this isn’t some urgent race towards a finish line, but rather a surrendering to a divine tug that pulls us towards the next step of our unfoldment in this ever-expanding universe.