there are no happy endings, endings are the saddest parts, so give me a happy middle, and a very happy start. (Shel Silverstein)
When there is no happy ending, make one out of scraps. (a quilter)
When the calendar year is very young, we (or at least I) have a sense of possibility, of expectation that maybe this time we’ll get it right, whatever that might mean to us. A blank slate lies before us, only waiting for adventures, accomplishment, possibility . . . travel to exotic places, new or improved relationships, creative accomplishment, wealth, health, happiness . . . the proverbial happy ending is gonna happen. We’re gonna have that svelte figure, become fit enough to run that marathon, write that novel, find Mr. or Ms. Right, find that great job, our friends and family are gonna shape up and treat us the way we oughta be treated, plus even better, we’re gonna be kind and understanding and . . .
In a perfect world . . .
But there is no perfect world. And what I have learned is that there are no happy endings. But who wants to hear that, especially when your last nerve is hangin’ on by a mere shred . . .
We are broken, evolving, “growing” people. It is a broken, messy world, constantly changing, transforming, “becoming” . . . Moments of incredible beauty exist side by side with instances of unbelievable ugliness and horror and stupidity.
That is the way IT IS. This is life, with all its potential and all its tragedy.
And in the midst stands this tiny figure that is me/you/every person, saying, “WTF???” That is called, by the way, a moment of existential angst.
And maybe the answer floats back from someplace very far away, or as close as your next breath, “you have this moment, embrace it, this is the incredible gift of LiFE.” You have, no matter in what “prison” you may find yourself, the gift of choice about how you will think about, or perceive something. You have this MOMENT.
And when there is no happy ending? Maybe it’s not about the happy ending. Maybe it’s about the story.