When Bad Stuff Happens...

As someone who believes in a higher power as well as all of the perks that go with having someone looking out for the world (justice, karma, etc.), I find myself at an impasse when bad things happen to what seem like genuinely good people. However, I am not naive enough to think that I am alone in my confusion. I even took an entire college course on the history of such befuddlement (The Philosophy of Religion). People having been asking the same questions for thousands of years. What I find interesting about the subject - and interesting about my own questions - is not that we have asked but that we have expected to find the "real" answers.

My mom sent me her horoscope this morning. It begins "What is the meaning of life? Is there such a thing as free will? Why is there something rather than nothing? If God exists, why does he or she seem to be invisible? Dear Leo, questions like those I just asked are completely irrelevant to you right now. To ponder them for even a few minutes would be a waste of time." He then suggests Leos ask other questions that pertain to their own fears and love.

What is so wrong about asking questions about God? Is it a waste of time? I think these questions can be valuable as long as our expectations are not to figure out The Truth. In fact, we know that it's impossible for us to figure it out. Instead, what if we ask questions about God, the universe, and ourselves with the hope of coming to our personal-right-here-right-now truths? I suppose that some may use this as a licence to do whatever they want, regardless of the harm it causes, because its their truth. But people do this all of the time anyway. Most of us, though, have a conscience as well as a desire to life good lives, so a personal truth can only help.

I have been asking such questions about God and myself more frequently lately, searching for that small, personal truth. One of the things I've been considering is the common notion I talked about earlier: good things go to good people and bad things to bad. What if there is more to it than that? What if "bad things" are not punishments but are instead lessons in disguise? Those of us who seem to be good people with bad luck are actually then a select group. Like a well-tended compost pile, we have a chance to take a bunch of rotten crap and turn it into beauty by spreading valuable nutrients: kindness and patience. This, at least for now, is what I have come to understand as one of my own little truths. What are yours?

Cheers,
Molly