Paradise by the Hash Tag Frights

The serenity of this new home is deafening.  So much beauty, old growth trees abound, silence so deep it punctures your heart.  And the view … (exhale,) the views alone could build ships to sail beyond the horizon.  If there was an inclination to sail away … which there is not.  Because even in this beauty that abounds, at the center there is Me.  I come with bags unpackable and a habit brain wired to worry.  During any move of this magnitude the governing force is Finagle’s  Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment.”

Growing up, I thought that was Branca’s Creed.  Because my mother deemed it so.  Turns out she borrowed that from mid-century Science fiction, which I guess is apropos in this mid-century modern mansion.  It may be time for a new motto, for while it is true …. things are GOING WRONG left and right, front, back and sideways … many of them are also being fixed quickly and calmly.

And that is it, is it not?  Our focus can be either on all of the things that seem on the surface to be falling apart … or we can revel in our ability to fix and smooth out the wrinkles in time as we resolve, divert or otherwise narrowly escape the next calamity.

For some people (not mentioning any redneck names) there is a peace of mind that comes with being a Jack of All Trades.  He is confident that This Old House will speak to him and he will know what needs to be done.  He is much like my father in that respect who has confidence that the scientific method will establish a cause and point to a solution.

But some of us do not have that innate “faith” and even in the daylight, the monsters under the bed can get into our head and try to turn our world upside down.  It is simply the nature of the me-mind.  My own mental miasma is spilling out all over my experience of the new house.  Waiting for the next explosion.  (The first would be from the gas in the chef’s oven but why go there.)  I spend a lot of time in the walk in closet off of the master bath.  It is quiet, quite large and provides a containing space for my body to wait out the storm and my mind to settle the doom dust.

Little by little as the days pass and boxes are unpacked, I watch how the pieces fall into place or fall apart.  I step back and watch the process of the me-mind as it tries to establish chaos and drama which it what it is programmed to do.
Perhaps as this is a new chapter we can begin with a new derivation of Murphy’s Law … I suggest Karma’s Mantra ….

Anything that can go wrong; Can not crush my bliss for long

And of course wherever we stand in the moment is perfect just as it is.  After all, if we can not recognize paradise in the present breath, we may not notice all of the gifts that it brings.

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