In truth, there are no answers, and asking why can send us mad. Every act is a random one, and we, the only creatures on earth who seek both rhyme and reason.
…
That anger has been building like a pot of peas in boiling water, and needs to have the lid taken off and the heat turned down. That there’s time still to laugh, to go slow, that mess and chaos make lovely partners, not foes. That time hasn’t shrivelled, but expands in the most unexpected moments. That rage, if it’s acknowledged, can be put to good use, can become passionate and positive. That the relentless rushing needs to stop. That there is, always, tomorrow.
I’ve learnt some other things too. About this tenuous, beautiful thing we call life. That it’s exactly that. Tenuous. Fragile. Unexpected. Unpredictable. And fleeting. Think about that moth slipping out of its chrysalis. It won’t beat itself up worrying about when the end is coming. It will just get on with finding the flame.
http://meanjin.com.au/editions/volume-68-number-1-2009/article/sickness-and-the-art-of-healing/
(Thanks to Con for the link)
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