Even Graduates Forget the Elementary....

"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." -Sherlock Holmes

Let's say you build a house. From the earliest years you manufactured an idea for a dream home, and as you grew up you searched and saved, explored and eliminated. When you were old enough, stable enough, and were tired enough of youthful vagrancy to settle down, hire a real estate agent, and finally bridge the gap between your beautiful imaginings and concrete reality, you went for it.

The agent escorted you all over and showed you many locations. You turned down lot after lot, holding onto the vision, hoping that you would ultimately land in the location meant for the sprouting of your most colorful wishes. You trusted that when you saw the place, you would just know.

And then it happened. Far outside of town, with a little creek in the back, a patch of woods off to the side, a space for a library, rich Earth for a garden, and all at a fantastic price. There it was. Your spot. You knew.

The house went up, and years into your perfect sanctuary, harvesting vegetables from the ground and peace from your books, after weathering many punches of rain and fangs of sleet, you woke up to find water on your floor. Scouring the perimeter and inspecting each corner, you were unable to locate the source. So you called a plumber to come and check it out. They did, and then they told you there was a leak in the walls. Expensive construction ensued.

It worked. And for a while the water vanished.

Another year passed. And then it happened again. Water on the floor. You checked the pipes and could find nothing out of place. Frustrated, you sought out a construction expert. He came and said the house and roof were fine, but during the process he discovered that the water heater was at fault. It had a bad regulator, was vacating superheated excess water, and it was going to be more expensive to fix it than to just purchase a new one, and so you agreed. Even more expensive repairs followed.

The floods retreated.

Two years went by. Then one day as you were getting home, exhausted from work, you stepped into your dream and your heart sank. Water everywhere.

This time, you fired complaints all over town, outraged at the disruption of your otherwise idyllic life, teetering on the breaking point. Eventually a home inspector visited and, after investigating all the available clues, he asked if the real estate agency could show you the land deed for the property. You had no idea but said you would contact the agent. "But why? What are you thinking?" you asked.

"Well," he replied. "I have an idea. It's a long shot, but it's not impossible...." 

After a week's worth of trying to link up with the real estate agency, you finally managed to discover that they had never owned the legal documents from the original USGS survey. There may never even have been one - and suddenly you started to understand why you had gotten such a good deal.

Worse, the home inspector returned and, after hearing your results, revealed the dark, ugly truth: the perfect little creek in the back was closer to the water table than it looked, and the weight of the house was causing the slab to sink, and the land around you was slowly turning into a swamp.

There was nothing you could do. Rebuild the house, on stilts? Not feasible. Petition the town to excavate an estuary for the creek? Not allowed. Waterproof your floors and dig a moat and install pumps? Not possible.

And now, with your garden oversaturated and withering, your vibrant dream threatening to give birth to nightmares that bleed into the daytime, it was the harshest test of all. Though you had slung about rage and melted into tears and pleaded with desperation, pointed fingers and ignored signs and tried to force apathy, after spinning worlds of agonizing emotions, you had no choice left but to face the truth.

You had been seeing what you wanted to see - not what was. Your passions had overruled the need to do your homework. And now there was nothing you could do.

To demand acknowledgement of a truth when it directly opposes how we feel is one of the strictest exams the universe can administer. When overwhelming circumstances force us to dig deep and face a foundation we may have overlooked. It's not the creek's fault. It's not the Earth's fault. They're just doing what they do.

In that moment, there is something we can do. Something I can do. It isn't Nature's fault!

Well, then.... God? If you're listening, inject me with the strength to carry the burden of knowledge, and to use it to protect myself against the unknown, including my own limitations. Goddess, if you're there, nurture me with the sensitivity to forgive myself and notice harmony and rhythm among the greater unknown forces. Higher Self, bless me with growth and insight and patience, as I continue my unalterable journey toward self-actualization. Teach me. Keep teaching me. I will learn.

The emotions will recede, and after the flood has drained away, a structure of wisdom will be left standing, a permanent foundation carved for a more habitable future. I will grow a better garden and file the experience in my expanded library, and from these nuggets of Nature, incredible new dreams will sprout.

Elementary: it's not just for children.