Someone asked a question recently that I haven’t been able to shake.
“Is the clarity you have—the way you hold things—is that the illness teaching you? The Buddhist philosophy? Or just God quietly doing what God does?”
I sat with that for a while. Which, for the record, is one of the few things Parkinson’s has genuinely improved. I sit with things now. Mostly because getting up requires a strategic plan, advance notice, and occasionally a spotter. But the question deserved more than a clever deflection. The honest answer is: I don’t know.
I’ve lived long enough to understand that “I don’t know” is not an admission of failure. It’s usually where the interesting stuff lives.