I like control; I like routine. We've established that ad nauseum on this little blog, so I'll say no more, except this: chaos sucks. Chaos makes me itchy and restless and urges me to pace like I'm looking for a way out. I know it can't last, that it burns itself out, but does it have to smolder so much? Does it have to suck up that much oxygen?
But here's what I realized this morning, thinking about this chaos-as-fire metaphor--the trick isn't to pace, isn't to give in to restlessness, because that's just another way to step into the chaos, to participate in its mad dance. I mean, if there's a fire on the floor of your building, do you run through it, or do you drop and roll away and wait for rescue, for extinguishing? And like fire, what's left afterward (think forestry management, think burning the blueberry barrens) is clean, clear, and primed for new growth. All that nonsense that kindled the chaos in the first place? Gone.
But we have to stay. We have to tolerate the discomfort of the heat, and we may get singed a bit in the process--but what's good for the outer landscape is good for the inner landscape.
Controlled burning, abundant space.