Speaking of REFLECTION

So I just finished (actually yesterday) Everything Happens for a Reason... by Mira Kirshenbaum.

OMG. OMG. OMG. I reread it again last night/this morning so that I could note a few KEY things before I send my one and only copy to a friend... a friend who needs this book BAD (I'm not mentioning any names - but you know who you are.) But, then I got to thinking... a lot of my friends need this book BAD (again, no names, but you know who you are) -- so while this ONE in particular is in dire need - I'm going to order me a shitload of more copies and just hand 'em out like candy. Cuz, that's what a good book is. Sweets for the soul. Yum.

For example:
There are 10 reasons why things happen... and I swear to peter... I can't think of any other reason... I mean this chick covered everything. Everything. Todo. All of it. "No mas," said Roberto Duran. "Aqui esta todo?", as my customer asked the other day... "Si" as I totally answered without even thinking.

1. To help you feel at home in the world
2. To help you totally accept yourself
3. To show you that you can let go of fear
4. To bring you to the place where you can feel forgiveness
5. To help you uncover your true hidden talent
6. To give you what you need to find true love
7. To help you become stronger
8. To help you discover the play in life
9. To show you how to live with a sense of mission
10. To help you become a truly good person.

And there's diagnostic questions... that you can ask yourself... and if yourself says Yes... then that thing was a reason WHY shit happened in your life. Whatever it was. That's the ANSWER to the question... "Why the hell did that just happen?" or "Why did I do that?" or "Why did they do that?" or "What the fuck was I thinking?"... or the much more enlightened question I like to think that I ask myself... "What was the gift in that?"

Case in point: My whole ankle/exercise ball collision. An injured ankle... that takes a mother hell of a lot of time to heal... makes me pay attention to form. Proper form. Without it... my ankle kills me. At the beginning of a training program - correct form is essential - otherwise I'll carry the bad habit into the way I do things probably forever. The gift of this painful, embarrassing (I fell at the gym... working with the trainer - that is a pretty sucky thing to have to say...) injury is I'm learning how to walk, run, and exercise correctly. To make me a stronger athlete. Imagine that. What a gift.

I've learned a long time ago that the quicker you can get to asking that question... "What's the gift in this?" the sooner you get over it. No matter what it is. No matter what happened. However tragic, however huge, however painful. That's kinda cool.