Blog o’ Gnosis

How close outside the door chaos dwells. And closer still the faster we race, the more details we leave to chance, like stitches dropped in a daisy chain. It is crazy season out there. The rain drives everyone into the ground, we are drenched before we reach the car, and there is never enough time to dry out by the fire before going back out again. It is a time custom-made for chaos.

A few days ago I dashed into the post office to collect my mail, then dashed out again, slipping the box key into a jacket pocket instead of its rightful place in my shoulder bag. Yesterday at the post office I searched the bag and found no key. I couldn’t collect my mail, and couldn’t recollect either what I’d done with the key, besides having a vague muscle memory of slipping it into my pocket. But it wasn’t in my jacket. Stumped, I walked more slowly out of the building and brooded on the way home.

Later I sat on my couch and mentally retraced my steps. Yes, I remembered putting the key in my jacket. Yes, that was the same jacket I wore today. No, the key was not in the pocket. The pieces should have added up, but they didn’t. Where was the flaw? At which step had my memory failed?

Loss, even trivial loss, is surreal. It kicks us back into a sort of pre-verbal incapacity. We think we have things figured out, we have a plan, a way forward. And then a stitch gives way, the door opens a crack, and chaos slips back in. Chaos, that which gives birth to all things, is both our inspiration and our demon. With its promise that anything is possible, we create. But when it shows up on opening night, all hell breaks loose.

All of our creations are constructs shielding us from that source out of which they have emerged. Our families, our careers, all the familiarity of friends and routines that make us feel secure, stable, supported. What a very thin wall they are between ourselves and the forces of chaos.

Yet creation is what we humans do. It is what we are made for, a primal urge, and we are good at it. In moments like these, who can resist the impulse to go over our steps once more, searching for the stitch we dropped, seeking a way to make our picture whole again?

I am tired of loss, tired of setbacks, deaths, and near-deaths among those I hold dear. My circle of friends has been hard-hit by chaos this year, as has much of the world. It is an act of courage some days to just stand up, to get out of bed and move forward with our plans, our visions of what is possible. But the cardinal rule of life in a world run by chaos is: Never ask, “What next?” for you will surely find out.

The only antidote I know of for chaos fatigue is gratitude. Chaos comes to remind us of how fragile life is. We would be spurning its gifts if we did not give thanks, then, for the life that we have. So at a certain point last night I just had to give up my puzzle of where I put the key, and accept the fact that I did not know, and could not explain things. It was okay, I would survive, it was a very trivial loss. I let it go.

Then, just before bed, a breakthrough: I had been wearing a different jacket that day. It was the wool jacket with the deep, smooth pockets, still resting on the back of a chair where I’d left it to dry. That moment of discovery was so sweet, but I did not jump up immediately and try the pocket. In fact, I went to bed without checking, without knowing for sure whether the puzzle pieces would all fall into place. Having worked so hard to be at peace with not knowing, I wanted to savor for as long as possible this feeling of happiness that had come from gratitude, not from accomplishment. I slept contented, and this morning I woke, gave thanks for the day, and slipped my hand into that jacket pocket. The key was there.

This is the season of chaos. Be careful, be mindful. Move slowly if at all possible. Sleep deep, and on waking give thanks for rising warm and dry in the very dark of the year. Blessed be.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 at 9:16 pm and is filed under General, Society, Spirit. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.