When all is right with the world

Photo by luizclas: pexels.com

All is not exactly right with the world.

In a literal sense that is.

But all doesn’t have to be right in the world for everything to be right with the world.

You know what I mean.

The other day, I was asked to write. “Write one of your soulful things like you used to”.

Wait…no psychology? You want something of the heart? I got a stare in return, even though I didn’t say anything out loud.

“I don’t want to write about how things should be. What’s the point…”

And the reply. “It’s not how things should be…it’s how things are, if we could only remove our prejudices and blinders, and see them with willing eyes.”

Well then, I am writing. What the heart says.

And the heart says that life is this gift of complicated wonder. Tragedies too, but mostly, as the heart sees it, complicated wonder.

Which you feel when you blast music and dance and take fuzzy pictures of the full moon, even though you live in a development, with nothing all that poetic or all that natural around you.

But you don’t need to be in a national park to see poems in the sky. You can see poems in the bricks. In the shadows that cars and trash cans leave on the street at sunset.

All you need is eyes. Maybe a single patch of grass. A small tree that pushes itself to grow. Even a half wilted flower, leaning awkwardly over the edge of a vase in your kitchen. An annoying pigeon that poops in your driveway. A star. A darkness. A sunrise.

Poetry and magic are everywhere. Wonder, the wonder of it all. Because really, every little thing is, if seen, a miracle.

The window to reality may not always be fully open. There is depression or just sadness. There is confusion and frustration and disappointment. A shattered heart, or one that is healing. There is pain and guilt. There is much, much that stalks and tramples our view with muddy, vulgar shoes and lenses distorted by cynicism and exhaustion.

But the window is there. To reveal and remind that our job is not to work, or struggle, or suffer.

Our job is to be happy. To learn how to discover happiness. Learn to create, nurture and share it.

The heart says life is not about fulfilling a checklist of so-called abundance and expectations. It’s the quality of a life that matters.

Yes, quality. In all things. Elegant, quirky, refreshing grace. And quality calls for a lot of courage to go against the smothering of comfortable, familiar and convenient things. It urges us, at every step, to not fall or stay into the trap of that controlled suffering floating in minimal contentment. That life. Filled with sufficient things. The tolerable.

The heart says nothing is perfect. And thank the godz for that, because perfection means the end of everything. An imploding universe. An unimaginable horror and complete death.

Whereas imperfection is a radiant, blossoming space of all that is and all that can be. A space we can freely explore, with courage and considered investment. So that we can access and use the magic. That creative, soothing, healing energy which fuels things of value. And answers difficult questions. And opens more important doors.

The heart also says the purpose of beliefs and principles we develop, carry or borrow are there to elevate us. Not to smother. Not to drag us backwards into paralysis and denial. Into absence.

And here also, the warning…what is familiar isn’t always safe or healthy. Sometimes all we are used to are harmful, ugly things. Ugly rules. Ugly barriers. Masks we wear and false signs we obey. Those that mark dead ends where there aren’t dead ends. Or promise a smooth path where there is a deadly, sheer drop into an abyss.

The heart asks uncomfortable questions. Outright rude sometimes.

To wake us up when we complain and complain. And dwell and dwell. And blame. And cry over cuts and bruises from walking into the same wrongness we inherited, or keep building, or keep seeking. And also cry over what is missing when what is missing is, and always was, within our reach.

The heart says there is ‘a better’, and quality matters and magic is right there, at the edge of eyes and choices.

The heart says all this and many other things. I hope this was, for now, soulful enough.

And while all is not exactly right in the world, all is right with the world. You know what I mean.

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