A profound chapter.

I love reading. I love discovering within a stranger's words... a camaraderie.

A very special friend, a girl who is a decade younger than me but has proven time and time again wisdom well beyond her age (and even mine) recommended this particular read.
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Since beginning this book almost a year ago (I love reading but rarely actually make time for it!) I have come across plenty of snippets of wisdom within. However today as I read a short chapter on my porcelain throne I found a significant section worthy of sharing. And so I provide it below:

The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mundane worldly order. In the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. Every religion in the world operates on the same common understandings of what it means to be a good disciple-- get up early and pray to your God, hone your cravings. We all agree that it would be easier to sleep in, and many of us do, but for millennia there have been others who choose instead to get up before the sun and wash their faces and go to their prayers. And then fiercely try to hold on to their devotional convictions throughout the lunacy of another day.

The devout of this world perform their rituals without guarantee that anything good will ever come of it. Of course there are plenty of scriptures and plenty of priests who make plenty of promises as to what your good works will yield (or threats as to the punishments awaiting you if you lapse), but to even believe all this is an act of faith, because nobody amongst us is shown the endgame. Devotion is diligence without assurance. Faith is a way of saying, "Yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding." There's a reason we refer to "leaps of faith"-- because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be-- by definition--faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy.

I'm not interested in the insurance industry. I'm tired of being a skeptic. I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and patched by empirical debate. I don't want to hear it anymore. I couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water.
(Eat, Pray, Love by E. Gilbert, Pg 175-6)


September 20, 2008 The Last Laugh

As I held her hand between both of mine I stole a glace at the monitor. I had silenced the alarms at the start of the trip once we were certain we had all the documentation on hand. Sometime ago, this woman had chosen to sign a DNR knowing with the multitude of things going wrong in her body, an end was inevitable.

I looked back at her and despite what any machine would say I saw a calm and happy face awaiting my response. She wanted to know about a boy I took a trip down south with... a boy who could light up my face despite the gravity of her condition.

These woman's eyes were out of place, surrounded by all the signs of age and illness, but on their own they were as lively as a teenage girl awaiting the tale of her best friend's first kiss. Unbeknownst to her I wondered how it is possible for someone to appear so happy and peaceful when everything else is ready to leave these earthly boundaries.

As I told her about some of the comedic moments of our trip, she laughed so loud she even startled my otherwise somber partner. I could feel his eyes watching me in the rear view mirror. I didn't need to meet his gaze to know his thoughts but I looked up all the same.

It couldn't have been more then a moment before I felt a change in the weight of her hand in mine, as her arm fell limp and began to pull out from my grip. A unique coldness replacing the shared warmth. As I turned and bowed my head back to those childlike eyes, I stole another glance at the monitor only to see what I had already instantly sensed.

Returning to my patient's ever peaceful face, I could still see the glow of her laugh.