May 15: Euphoric, World's Goodness, Goodness Fairy Tale

Then something else unusual happened:  walking down the street toward the impossibly crowded avenue, and standing shoulder to shoulder amid a throng of shoppers on the corner, Ives was waiting for the light to change, when he blinked his eyes and, in a moment of pure clarity he would always remember, began to feel euphoric, all the world's goodness, as it were, spinning around him.

Ives has just had a near-death experience.  The elevator on which he was riding plunged several stories, uncontrolled.  For many tense minutes, Ives believed he was about to leave the world--his wife and children--but, eventually, he's rescued.  Given a second chance.  That's when he has his vision of the world's goodness.

I usually do not have a world view that focuses on the world's goodness.  If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you may have realized that I am drawn to darker subjects.  Even the book that I'm focusing on this year (Mr. Ives' Christmas) bears testimony to this predisposition.  Ives' son is shot dead on the steps of a church right before Christmas.  For decades, Ives suffers through crushing grief and depression.  It's not a light read.

In the end, however, Ives finds happiness.  Instead of lack and absence, he chooses to embrace the world's goodness.  His euphoric vision on the streets of Manhattan becomes his life.  The last 50 or so pages of the novel are saturated with forgiveness, healing, and happiness.  That's Ives' legacy by the last page.

I'm not sure what my legacy is going to be when I shuffle off this mortal coil.  If it's this blog, I may be in a little trouble.  I wouldn't call my posts uplifting.  Maybe amusing.  Or thoughtful.  Even provocative at times.  But the world's goodness is usually not on display in my words.  I think what I do is a chalk outline of goodness.  I point out the injustices or disappointments in my life, and, by doing so, the shape of goodness becomes more obvious.  Sort of like looking at a wall and seeing the bright square where a picture used to hang.

Once upon a time, a good man named Goodman Brown lived in a good town named Goodton (short for Good Town).  Goodman Brown had a good life.

He grew fruits and vegetables for a living, and the good people of Goodton loved his produce stand.  They usually paid him double his asking price, because they were such good customers and Goodman Brown was such a good farmer.

One day, a hurricane hit Goodton, and most of the village was flooded or blown away.  Goodman Brown lost everything.  When the hurricane was downgraded to a tropical depression, he surveyed the damage to his farm.

His fields were swamps.  His barn was rubble.  And the artichoke patch he had just planted was merely a memory.

His neighbor, Goodman Black, walked by and patted Goodman Brown on the back.  "Be of good cheer, friend," Goodman Black said.  "Life is good."

Brown smiled at Black and said, "Eat shit."

Moral of the story:  you're an asshole, Goodman Brown.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Chalk outlines that make you happy