October 2, 2014

{This is a chapter in a project I am working on.  It hasn’t been edited.  I will try to do that soon.}

My friend Dave (not his real name) and I rarely agree on anything, especially life philosophies. If it weren’t for our small threads of interconnection through history and Las Vegas and nature, we would have little to frame our friendship.  I am positive he tolerates me only so he has someone to argue with.  I accept this.  I’m hungry and my sandwich is layered with amazing flavors.  A little company, even if it is wrapped in such a cantankerous package, is perfectly welcome.

In today’s spirited conversation, Dave is agitated about people who think that things happen for a reason. Why this has bothered him enough to pick a fight, I’m not sure.  He is a mostly a pleasant fellow, polite, solid, sometimes funny, and a man of his word.  He is not happy though.  I don’t know him well yet but I would say he is at a crossroads in his life.  Dave seems burned out with his job and life, he’s bored.  If he were married, I could imagine him leaving his wife and trading her in for a younger model who prefers tanning to intellectual conversation.  Although this younger friend would satisfy his boredom in certain ways, he would quickly become disenchanted with her for she would lack everything else important.

Dave is not married and doesn’t have a girlfriend. With no one else to blame for his misery, all he can be is cynical.  When he is like this, I think he is a supreme curmudgeon.  What young thing wants a curmudgeon?  While he is keenly handsome, has just the right spots of gray in his hair, and has piercing blue eyes, a grouch is a grouch.  I’m not fond of this particular mood of his.

I’ve always found him attractive. I, however, am not his type nor do I fancy him my type.  I try to avoid relationships with cynics, it dampens my fun.  That’s my excuse anyhow, but as it turns out I really have no prospects waiting in the wings.  I digress.

“Why does everyone always say that things happen for a reason?” he asks with frustration, just priming for a debate. “Everything just happens, no rhyme or reason.  And it’s so cruel sometimes.”

I have no argument for this. Some amazing people have had some horrific things happen to them.  No matter what your beliefs , it is always impossible to truly reconcile why bad things happen.

I can’t resist the bait though. Dave knows this.  He is pushing a big button.  Generally, I don’t like debates because it feels like arguing.  I don’t have a big need to win.  When put on the spot, I have a hard time formulating my response.  I prefer to ponder issues, and don’t think well on my feet.  And in most cases I don’t care all that much if someone doesn’t have the same opinion as mine.   The button has been pushed though.

“Can you prove that things don’t happen for a reason?” I question with a slight smirk on my face. He rolls his eyes, gives me a grunt, takes a bite of his sandwich and finally offers, “No, nor can you prove that they do happen for a reason.”

“Bingo! Exactly.  So why can’t everyone just believe what they want and what gives them some measure of comfort?”  I am just getting warmed up.

“Because it’s illogical,” is all he can answer. Dave reports facts for a living but can’t come up with anything more .  Blue eyes or not, looking at him now is just making me mad.

Rather than make a counter-argument, I am sitting here feeling angry and hot, and trying to figure out why. Why am I so passionate about this topic, so much so that it makes me seethe that Dave is so dismissive and matter of fact about it?  Why do I even care?

“Because,” I finally blurt out. Dave is mystified by my response as there was no part of the prior conversation that would require such a reply.  He is actually starting to laugh with a twinkle in his eye that makes me want him and want to smack him at the same time.  I am suddenly embarrassed that my internal dialogue found its way out of my head.

“Because you don’t understand,” I start, I am fumbling over my words and thoughts, trying not to sound crazy but not convincing him or me.

I stop, for I now know what this is all about.

This has nothing to do with winning my argument or beating his cynicism. It has everything to do with a feeling of knowing, knowing what it is like when you believe in miracles.  The miracles just start showing up regularly.  I want Dave to feel it too.  The magic.  Sadly, I look at him and know the truth.  He will never feel it if he can’t open himself up to believe it.

“I never believed before,” I say slowly and deliberately, “until I hit the bottom of the well emotionally. I didn’t think I would live through the pain.  I didn’t think I could feel so alone and isolated for even one more day.”  I am suddenly completely frightened to be so forthright with deep feelings and yet I feel compelled to continue.  “I read something that stuck with me,” I say as I stare just past him, avoiding eye contact.  “I read that miracles show up as soon as you want to see them.”  Dave is no pushover.  He is not going to just believe with so little to go on.  He is looking at me for more though, silent, waiting for me to continue.

“Instead of looking at the pain, I decided to make myself aware of everything amazing happening. The feel of the air.  The mountains peeking between the apartment buildings.  The spring sunshine warming my skin.  Then my first set of new friends.  Then more friends.  Then a great new job.  Then my passions woke up.”  I stop.

“What do you mean, ‘woke up’?” he asks, almost timidly. “I like to write, but also feared it.  But all of a sudden I am writing about everything.  I started hiking for exercise but realized how much I have missed it.  Then I am hiking every weekend.  I became alive.”

He ‘s looking at me, still skeptical. We sit silently for a few minutes, then he finally manages to say, “But that doesn’t explain things happening for a reason.”

I know that I’m not explaining it well. “You have to be open to it.” I say as I shake my head.  “Getting divorced was the most painful thing ever in my life, and I have been through some pretty painful and scary things in my many days.”  I am now staring at my plate.  I can hardly talk.  “But if it wasn’t for that, I would have never awakened.  I would have never found my strength.  I would have never found my passions.  I would have never reconciled the pain.  I would have never learned to forgive.  I would have never become someone I love and respect.  I would have never started living my life on purpose. ”  I am shaking now.  I don’t know if I have said too much.  But it’s out there now.  No turning back.

“The bottom line is that I believe things happen for a reason. Believing brings me comfort.  It makes me aware, and makes me see all of the wonderful things in life.  It makes me wonder what people are here to teach me.  It makes me focus on trying to be the best person I can be.  And the miracles of my life keep showing up.”  I am crying now, more from being grateful for having reached a place of peace after a lifetime of inner turmoil.

“I have met people that I know were put on my path to awaken my passion for writing, for baseball, for Las Vegas history. Hell, maybe that is why you and I are friends, so you can teach me something about history and keep my passions alive.”  I laugh a little.  Dave shakes his head but manages a smile.

“I have made friends that I am sure showed up to teach me that I can make friends. I have made friends with people who have lives very different than mine, and I think they are here to teach me how to be open to things that weren’t on my radar before or maybe I wasn’t as open to. ” I can’t stop now.  I go on, “What if I was put in someone else’s path to help them or inspire them or say the one thing that made them look at life differently?”

Dave is looking at me, sympathetic to my obvious emotion and fervor but still not believing.

“Dave, you don’t have to believe it. All I can say is that I believe that things happen for a reason and that people cross your path for a reason, and believing it has made my life infinitely better so stop being such a curmudgeon already.”  Dave gives me a full laugh now.  We stand up to leave and he gives me a hearty hug goodbye, but can’t resist repeating to me, “It’s illogical.”