Thursday, January 19, 2012

I sliced my finger open on the ice, playing in the snow on the way home and pretending for just a little while that everything was ok again, that faith and deservedness can sometimes work magic. These are still the things that I believe in, the small sad statues and the left behind places and the uncommon sacrifices. I was not unhappy to discover that I had paid a small tribute in blood for a momentary lifting of the crushing silence. Even if nothing important has really changed.

I was thinking again about the Golden Buddha in Thailand, how something so valuable was hidden in plan sight for so long only no one realized that it was there because they never thought to look. How its rediscovery was almost incomplete because of bad omens and inconvenient superstitions. It was only being dropped that saved it, and the luck that there was one monk who braved the omens to see through the cracks and the floods. And how unlikely it is that our statues may secretly be gold, but that the only way to know for sure is to take a leap and look closely. I was thinking about all the ways there are to be brave.

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