Thursday, July 13, 2017

these stories my mother tells me

Rain fell. The sploshing water on the moss roses and Petunias was welcome. The garden took a deep breath in and let it out.
The hotness in the house has become cool.
There is no more panting among the geraniums in the writing room.
Lots of chaos of course in the family life but that is to be expected.
Most of the time I try to contain chaos but it kicks me about like a soccer ball and I understand that chaos is part of life.
Today while my 85 year old mum folded my laundry I napped on the sofa. It was very pleasant.
The only thing I have learned is when hell happens you simply nap. The hell you experience today won't be as bad as the hell you experience later and really you have to stay happy even in the midst of hell.
Of course having lived in other countries any experience of hell here pales compared to the hell of other people in other places. Just today mum was telling me the story of a woman who had taken her grandson to the hospital since she could not leave him at home. She told him to stay put in the hospital while she got to see the doctor. She comes out of her visit and the 7 year old boy has vanished. The child is never found. Someone probably grabbed him and then made him into a child slave in a factory in the Third World. It's terrible to hear these stories as mum folds clothes but it puts our hell into perspective. There is no hell comparable to the hell suffered by the most impoverished in the Third World.
And really all hells are problems that might result in positive or better outcomes so best to accept problems as learning potentialities. At least this is how I will look upon hell. The dancing mystery beyond the next curtain.

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