In my morning meditation I read a quotation from the Dalai Lama. It goes like this: what science finds to be nonexistent, we must accept as nonexistent, but what science merely does not find is a completely different matter. It is quite clear that there are many, many, mysterious things.
The concept of mystery has been with me all week long. Someone, and now I can’t remember who, remarked that the greatest part of writing is its mystery. I am often asked, “Where did you get the idea for that book? that character?” Nine times out of ten, my response is “It’s a mystery to me.”And it is. Ideas come to me like manna from Heaven. It is my job to scoop them up, put them in a wheelbarrow, and cart them off to be planted.
But what of non-artistic mysteries? These, I find, abound. Of course there is the natural world, filled with the diversity of flora and fauna, of weather and stars and sky. There are, too, feelings and emotions that surprise and elude us. But I’m talking about the mysteries of change and surprise. How crazy is it that I have evolved into someone who no longer pushes. An Uncarved block. How did that happen? What brought about the change? Attitudes toward people are different now. I bless my adversaries and pray for them. Resentment has morphed into acceptance and anger into compassion. I feel so free and baffled. What power is working through me?
A dear friend once told me “Life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed “ so I will sit back and enjoy the moments of synchronicity that come to me. The unasked for blessings. The yellow kettles and trips abroad. I will simply plant those dreams and wishes in my garden and get on with what is in front of me. A mystery is a mystery. A little bit, sometimes a lot, of magic sprinkled on my day. I don’t expect them, but I do because I know that my Creator blesses every day with the opportunity to be amazed.