There are some things I know for sure.
The location of any item of Joel’s
crap belongings, for example, even if I have not seen where he sweetly and neatly placed it.
The precise moment I fell in love with him.
My daughter’s name.
And that, my sweet friends, is about it.
Everything else is a guess, at best.
Everything else I pretend to know.
Everything else I appear to know.
You know, for sure.
I have hunches about a lot of things.
Like that people deep, deep down are essentially good even if they are covered with so many layers of darkness that they do bad things.
Like that deep, deep down we’re all just the same.
Like that it will always rain when I finally get round to doing the 49 piles of washing that stare at me with great misery from the corner of our bedroom.
Like that happiness is a state of mind rather than a reflection or circumstance.
Like that you probably know for sure about as much as I know for sure. Which is not a lot.
Because the truth is, there is very little anyone KNOWS FOR SURE. We are forever getting our knickers in a knot over being right or assuming we know what’s going on in any given situation and, friends, we do it all the time that I thought it wise to get a cup of water and chuck it straight over this self-generated fire of ours. Since there is very little anyone knows for sure, isn’t everything else, then, just a belief? Just an assumption? And if everything is just a belief, doesn’t that mean that no one’s beliefs are truer that any one else’s? And since no one is truer, shouldn’t we all just quit arguing and fighting and jumping up and down and yelling and debating with one another? Shouldn’t we all just take our of self-righteous armour, put down our weapons and just get along, already?
Leunig said, “Love one another and you will be happy. It’s as simple and as difficult as that. There is no other way.”
And friends, I have to say that I think I know for sure that that is right.
P.S. I just got Joel to read over this post for his opinion. Sometimes I worry that my writing can be a little rant-ish. He finished reading, looking up at me all confused and said, “Why did you write that?” I said, “Because I think that’s what’s wrong with the world- everyone trying to be right and no one trying to be kind and I just wanted to write about it.” My response was met with silence. There was no What A Great Message. No How Insightful Of You. And there was definitely no It’s Really Good, Rach. The silence continued until he finally said, “But where’s the story? You usually write a story?”
Well, sweet thing, YOU ARE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE INSIDE THIS RED TENT SO CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY THAT I KINDLY LET YOU IN FOR A LITTLE BRIEF WHILE AND IF THAT’S YOUR FINAL COMMENT YOU CAN LIFT THOSE PRETTY LITTLE FEET OF YOURS AND GET THEM WALKING YOUR PRETTY LITTLE BODY OUT OF HERE AND BY THE WAY I’M STILL WAITING FOR YOU TO DELIVER A BAKED PIE OR TWO TO MY FRONT DOOR.*
*click here if you are confused.