Life. It's a series of experiences. Scenes of intentions and accidents.

What, exactly, is going on during any of our experiences is wildly complex no matter what measuring devices we bring. We may have objective material evidence to empirically prove that a certain thing happened in a certain way but there are energies and histories and momentums of objects well out of sight and forces beyond our comprehension that are playing out within and without us all through this wonderful life.

A fact is a fact. The sky is blue. At least the part that I'm looking at now from where I'm sitting right now.

Truth is a matter of perspective and changes depending not on where you may have been standing in the midst of an experience but more often on where you're standing right at this very moment. Our perspective can change with time and distance.

It's interesting though that our understanding of the truth can be changed by facts and by our growth as humans being.

If our minds are open to the truth we have to be able to hold, at least temporarily, an opposing point of view from the one we're convinced by. At least several times a week while growing up I heard my mother say, "Now, just let me play the Devil's Advocate for a minute." Every time I heard that, a little part of my brain went into courtroom mode, examining a case from another perspective. She was probably speaking to my father but, still, it was good mental training for me.

Learning to play the Devil's Advocate has it's drawbacks but not too many. It is not training for simple judgement and definitely eliminates the possibility of herd mentality. Moo. It is always helpful to at least try to see anything from another's viewpoint.

In a few of my art history practicum classes, we examine artists' changing viewpoints on particular subjects. As you might imagine, except to explain where, when and why it arose, gabbing about one-point perspective drives me almost over the edge. It's is a construct designed to create an illusion. So is having a hard grip on one point of view about the truth. 

On the road to self-realization we're forced to confront certain truths that we hold about ourselves. Some of these truths can be painful, shameful, destructive, worth disowning. In the process of self-examination, playing the Devil's Advocate can be a healing exercise. This is true about myself but that equal and opposite thing is also true.

Lifting up that paradox to the light with love and wonder is a way to develop true compassion. If we can develop compassion for the most challenging parts of ourselves we may begin to feel compassion for others who seem so shameful, destructive, opposite. It wouldn't hurt. Mmm... maybe it could at first. Opening our hearts can be scary and painful but just think of the potential.
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Truth is a many-layered thing. Dense yet filled with light. Just like these leaves.

Truth does not belong to a particular team. Truth does not stand still and neither do we as we grow, change, and maybe acquire some wisdom and compassion along the way. 

You just never know.

It's hard to not judge an experience or situation that, on the surface, in the context of our present culture or personal emotional life may seem like a horrible blow or a tragedy or a major pain in the butt. Something "bad". Or, something "good".

These small and large interruptions in THE WAY THINGS ARE have potential to change us within, and the course of our lives. But only if we let them. Only if we do not try to resist the situation, control the outcome, or cling to any solid thing or certain thought about THE WAY THINGS ARE GOING TO BE NOW. I mean, really, nobody knows what's going to happen next.
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My favorite stories illustrating this, the ones that my mind turns to when I find myself reverberating from an unexpected "bad" or "good" situation is as follows:

Is That So?
(Zen Story about Hakuin)

The Zen Master Hakuin lived in a town in Japan. He was held in high regard and many people came to him for spiritual teaching. Then it happened that the teenage daughter of his next-door neighbor became pregnant. When being questioned by her angry and scolding parents as to the identity of the father, she finally told them that he was Hakuin, the Zen master. In great anger the parents rushed over to Hakuin and told him with much shouting and accusing that their daughter had confessed that he was the father. All he replied was, “Is that so?”
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News of the scandal spread throughout the town and beyond. The Master lost his reputation. This did not trouble him. Nobody came to see him anymore. He remained unmoved. When the child was born, the parents brought the baby to Hakuin, “You are the father, so look after him.” The Master took loving care of the child. A year later, the mother remorsefully confessed to her parents that the real father of the child was the young man who worked at the butcher shop. In great distress they went to see Hakuin to apologize and ask for forgiveness. “We are really sorry. We have come to take the baby back. Our daughter confessed that you are not the father.” “Is that so?” is all he would say as he handed the baby over to them.

The Farmer's Son
(Taoist variation on a theme)​

An old farmer who had worked his crops for many years set his aging horse free to pasture. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors said, "Such bad luck, to lose your only horse." "May be," the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "May be," replied the old man.

The following day, the farmer's son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "May be," answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "May be," said the farmer.

And then, of course, the young village men were killed in the war and the farmer's son, limp and all, was the only able bodied man remaining. The farmer and his son prospered. When his neighbors praised his fortune, well, you know how the farmer replied. "May be".

Here's Eckhart Tolle’s commentary on Hakuin’s Zen story and its Taoist variation:
“The story of the Zen Master whose only response was always “Is that so?” shows the good that comes through inner nonresistance to events, that is to say, being at one with what happens. The story of the man whose comment was invariably a laconic “Maybe” illustrates the wisdom of non-judgment, and to the fact of impermanence which, when recognized, leads to non-attachment. Nonresistance, non-judgement, and non-attachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living.” 
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― Eckhart Tolle (A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose)

I swear to god, if I wait any longer to start this blog and write this post, I'm going to pop! Every time I intend to restart my blogging life, my online writing and posting, my whatever this is I'm trying to express, something comes up and offers interference. I have succumbed to that interference so far but no longer.

One week ago, shy one hour, I was rear-ended by a distracted 22-year old and my life turned into smashed cars, pain and suffering and doctors visits and hours on the phone with insurance agents and arranging for and picking up rental cars and adjusting to new circumstances and intending that all of this interruption and challenge is a blessing in disguise. Yes, this is a blessing in disguise although I'll only recognize the blessing in retrospect.

That's how life works. The strikes and folds, the bends and curves of whoa! this roller coaster our souls have bought a ticket to.

But moving back a bit, had I not been rear ended while waiting patiently with my brake lights and turn signals on, with my spirit uplifted and motivation intact, I would have started this a week ago. But, to be honest, there have been interruptions of different sorts arising for months that I've allowed to hold me back.

If I'd moved through any or all of those interruptions, I would have said, I started this year in the throes of an illustration project for which I was also hired and charged with designing the book and managing the project—an illustration project of 60 fruits and vegetables. It was a mighty task and I loved it—the challenges and victories alike.

Here's a glimpse of what the end product looks like:

"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life."
~Oscar Wilde, 'The Decay of Lying: An Observation', 1889 

In late spring, as I completed the illustration phase and moved into design and project management , I found a few trays of organic tomato and pepper seedling on top of the trash cans at my apartment project. 

No, no, I thought. This will never do! I rescued the seedlings, adopted some out-of-date recycling bins which I filled with good dirt and started a garden project outside my bedroom window. One thing led to another...

"At first, art imitates life. Then life will imitate art.
​Then life will find its very existence from the arts."
—Fyodor Dostoevsky