When my therapist said, “Life is messy,” I was a little shocked. No. I was a lot shocked. Not withstanding it has been said before by many scholars and other philosophers, who actually admits that? Who admits that and is able to keep their sanity? Who in their right mind admits that? Admittance of that reality is enough to drive anyone of any intelligence and sensitivity right off the edge. Well the reality, I suppose, does put a lot of people off the edge. So now that I’ve heard it with such calm and matter of factness, I spend a lot of time wondering, Now what? Now what do I do? It’s all messy. None of it makes any sense. I have to live with that, but how do I live with that?
You know, it makes sense to me, and when people want to engage me in discussions about the so called reality of God and its ability to protect me from chaos and mess, my response is a very indisputable one. I’m a ball of energy mostly made of water and poo. That stops the God believers cold in their tracks.
