I remember several years ago I asked my dad, “So what’s the point of it all then? If people are so selfish and life is so unfair and everything is so hard, what’s the point?”
I imagine we’d been having one of our conversations / disagreements about life, the universe and everything. Maybe he’d been particularly grumpy about the state of humanity that day or maybe I was feeling particularly disheartened.
And my dad replied, “Well yes, but then you go outside and you see a robin and it makes everything worthwhile.”
I’ve come to know that my dad and I share a sensitivity that refuses to hide itself beneath the skin. The tears are quick for both of us and I imagine pools formed in both our eyes at that.
I understood, of course. A single moment of birdsong or the glimpse of a red breast perched on a branch is enough to make sense of everything. Something in us, even if we don’t fully understand it, knows that we are a part of something infinitely wise and beautiful.
The difference now, compared to then, is that more and more things look like robins to me. Some days, even, I wouldn’t be able to say where a robin ended and the rest of the world began.
Love and courage,