Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow." - Mary Jean Iron
Today, we almost lost a colleague.
'Almost'
Had he not been sitting where he was, with whom he was, in the building where he was . . . .
'Almost'
He--and the rest of us--are extremely lucky. Or at least greatly indebted to the tricks of fate that let him be who, when, where. GEEZ. My heart is still thumping. His almost stopped.
'Almost'
Quantum theory describes a parallel for every 'almost'. In the simplest descriptions, it states that every time an outcome could've been different, a split in atomic time happens and that outcome DOES happen in parallel to what is actually experienced; and--in theory--the outcomes of a thousand downstream effects change in an instant.
It's a curious theory, and one that seems to be able to be proven on an mathematic, atomic level, but not on a relational level. If you really feel ambitious, check out the definition on Wikipedia. There is enough blue hyperlink there to keep you busy for a very, very long time. (hint: Don't try it after a glass of wine. You will go cross-eyed. Trust me.)
Sometimes, it is the 'almost' that defines us more than what 'is'. The thought of what might be, or what could have been, galvanizes our focus to our purpose and priority in a way nothing else can.
You've seen it in the tragic experiences of others, and you've thought it, a thousand times:
"What if . . . , What if . . . ."
There are a bazillion things that pull us from the edge of that quantum question back to actual experience, and reason, and logic, and commitment, and obligation, and . . . and . . .and . . . and . . .
Quantum theory has already spoken. You are already doing what your heart really wants, in some parallel.
Listen to the "what if". Don't wait for that "rare and perfect tomorrow". The "what if" is the "almost" that is calling you back to your heart.
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