Had I taken the fork of despair, I would have remained angry and depressed over the fire, missing a golden opportunity to move West, to be closer to my son. Looking back, I see that I was too attached to my old environment to make the move on my own. I needed the tragedy to push me onward. I don't mean to trivialize the difficulty of certain aspects of life. It is important to look for the larger picture. If we could see that everything, even tragedy, is a gift in disguise, we would then find the best way to nourish the soul . . . "Crises" can help us discover much about ourselves and enrich our lives.
Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.
To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feelings of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration.