Mystery

Something I read from James Scott Bell the other day said we each get about eight decades in this world. Which made me stop and count on my fingers how many decades I've gone through, and how many I may have left.

I've cleared past one full hand of fingers and just started into a new one on my other hand.

Yikes. That's a lot of fingers I've gone through. And seems there aren't many leftover. Double yikes.

It's Mystery to me what all these fingers are adding up to, where they are pointing. I used to think that was a bad thing. That was back when I was living on the other hand.

But ever since getting a new hand I'm thinking Mystery's not so bad. Especially when I'm aware that much of life is nothing but Mystery.

Think about the first decade of this new century. Geez, what a Mystery it has been.

Letterman, Tiger and Bernie? Oh my.

Iraq and WMD? Beats me.

Washington and Wall Street? No clue.

Why is it the more sophisticated and certain and omnipotent we act, the more mysterious life becomes?

What if we cut to the chase and embrace Mystery? How fun might that be? Even better, what relief might come from not having to know the weekend weather forecast or the difinity of pundits or the payback scenario or whether the next thing is really going to be The Next Big Thing?

When someone's trying to make sense of stuff and all the talk turns to nothing but answers with few questions or the debate over ROI or just loud, hot hootin' and hollerin', try asking So why the hangup with mystery?

Five fingers in and three more to go makes me wonder if all is Mystery? If so, fine with me.

So long as we're working together toward good, and no one despairs, come win, lose or draw and the mess that goes with it, isn't it easier and less of a burden to believe in Mystery where all will be well?

http://twitter.com/tjmorin