Saturday, June 2, 2012

the great paradox

Every once in awhile I stumble across a great piece of writing that speaks to me, causes me to think and reflect.   Tonight I was watching an episode of the show Touch and it had such a piece.

  The universe, from atom to galaxy, is in a perpetual state of flux - but we humans don't like change.  We fight it.  It scares we create the illusion of stasis.  We want to believe in a world at rest - the world right now.  Yet our great paradox remains the same.  The moment we grasp the now - that now is gone.  We cling to snapshots, but life is moving pictures.  Each nanosecond different then the last.  Time forces us to grow, to adapt, because every time we blink our eye, the world shifts beneath our feet.
 The timing of hearing this piece is uncanny.  Things are moving forward here.  Last week we finalized our marital settlement agreement and signed the listing agreement with the real estate agent to sell the house.  Everything is very real - for everyone.  And it's hard.

The teenager is acting out.  The attitude is distasteful yet rationally understandable.  The behavior suspect and, in some circumstances, quite obvious.  In all cases, not good.  The venom spewing is hurtful.  It hits me at my core.  And yet somehow I am supposed to remain unemotional and understanding.  Teen years are tough - nothing compared to the "terrible twos" - add to that a divorce and a move and all the uncertainty to which that translates - of course it's a volatile situation.

And last night, as I'm tucking in my youngest who is now aware, the tears start flowing.  He doesn't want to move.  He doesn't want to leave our house.  Of course, you know it's not just the house.  And I hold him and he sobs.  And I do what I should - what I know I should do.  I reassure my love for him and that everything will be okay.  I explain how he's too young to remember that we've moved many times before.  I recount all the moves his brothers have been through.  I hold him and tell him that it'll be a new adventure - he'll have a new house and a new room.

And still he sobs.  And all he can say is "I just want it to be the same."

Yeah baby, I do too.  But nothing will ever be the same - and as the above passage states so rightly - it never could be even if you carry the illusion that it will be.  But that's a lesson difficult for even an adult to grasp.

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