Either everything is for a reason or nothing is: it’s a world of pure chance or coincidence.
But as I look around every day I realize that I probably fall into the group that believes that everything happens for a reason, that the world isn’t just stuck hobnob on the tip of a planet without rhyme or reason.
I’m a sucker for sentimental bullshit.
I watch the seasons change, the colours turning, and I realize that I am changing, too. I hear the crunch of the leaves’ cries under the heels of my shoes, and I know their death is a new beginning. I taste cold and cool air just faintly on the tip of my tongue, and I know I am changing and autumn is coming.
There is a world that surrounds the season. It has spiders weaving thicker webs, squirrels gathering up acorns and loot, and children begging their parents to stock up early on Halloween candy. The dawns are full of the colour purple and the dusks are full of the colour pink.
I carry my 35-pound shiny black school bag from building to building, feeling the pull of the muscle spasm jerk, cascade, and quiver, and I see the world. I see the crowds of students in the courtyard lingering and laughing, renewing old friendships and creating new ones. I see the bookstore lineups decrease and the cafeteria lineups increase as their pizza releases the greasy smell of melted cheese into the halls of Fisher.
I see how lovely our grounds are kept. No garbage. No clutter. No smoking.
I am mindful to the world, to the smallest of the small. Rilke wrote, “Live the questions themselves,” and I know he meant everything. I know he meant that the priority in life is to find all of the little things that seem like nothing but really are the most cherished moments of my life.
Either everything means something or nothing does.
This is the way it has to be.