47. The cause of it all

It is pointless to say never, because you will always be proven wrong.  But hey, I’d love to be proven wrong, so I’ll say this:

There may never be a pinpointed cause for what we go through.  (There.  Did I trick fate?  Will there be a rational reason now?  I’ll check the news in a second to see.)

Oh?  Did you think I was so full of myself as to pinpoint some source of blame for what ails me?

Fair enough.  I have written about myself and those around me for about twenty-three hours now.  I can see how you would come to that conclusion.

But no, I don’t believe there is a definite universal cause.  I’m not really sure there should be one, either.  Looking for the cause will be dandy when we’ve already found the solution.  Until then, we’re just pointing fingers, trying to take away our personal responsibility to being the best person we can possibly be.

And really, how much will it help us?  Now that we already know what we are dealing with, and that we have to deal with it, how much good does it do to look at some fixed moment in the past, and know if that one thing (be it genetics, some great childhood trauma, a food we ate, environmental issues) had been different, our whole lives could be different?  Better maybe.

We can’t change the past, and we can’t see the future.  The only thing over which we can exert any will is this moment.

Wait, that one’s gone, so this one.

Oops, again it has passed.  This one.

And on.

Stop looking for a cause.  There are researchers out there who just get all tingly in all the right (or wrong, depending on where you were raised) at the thought of figuring out the ground zero for this stuff.  Who are we to take away their data points and tedious reports?  We don’t need to find the cause, because we already know the effect.

And if we set out to use the effect to make ourselves and our world better (in whatever way you choose to define that) we will find more peace in this than some pat historical explanation could provide.

For cause?  All you need to know can be summed up in four words.  Five if you hate contractions, but obviously I don’t.

It’s not your fault.


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