Not much room in my life for magical thinking but sometimes shit is so random that it feels like a message from the Universe.

Of course when you’re digging desperately for meaning, then the random can seem more significant. Guilty as charged here.

I struggle sometimes between the idea that catastrophe and struggle and only catastrophe and struggle that can create meaning, and the idea that only the prolonged absence of catastrophe and struggle lends meaning to any of this. Surely the latter can be a sign that people have taken great effort and dug deep into their souls to create these windows of… not peace, but rest? Pan out on the shot though and it becomes obvious that these moments of rest are only possible at the expense of others, unless of course until we take pains to broaden an inclusive definition of peace.