Shivers Up My Spine

Yesterday I heard a story from another mother as I sat in a group discussion about how children understand death. Her son, five years old, had been adopted from Korea as an older baby. I'll call him Matt for expedience sake. Eight years ago her biological son had passed away. I'll refer to him as Luke. It turns out that as best as the record trail can determine, her adopted son Matt was born on the exact day of Luke's death. When he was three, Matt (an early precocious talker) spontaneously told her that he had met Luke in heaven when he had died and God was giving him a new body. The comment came out of nowhere. He's the kind of kid with sixth sense written all over him. I call this an old soul. He's made other pronouncements over the years, talking about how he's met such and such a person who knew his family before when he was in his other body.

These are the moments that confirm the famous Shakespeare line from Hamlet: "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Life is a strange thing. Too strange for us to ever understand. I've always wondered if we as writers are actually channeling the stories that are out there in the universe, some pre-existing cache that are just as real and alive as any other piece of creation. I believe any act of creativity is part of the great mystery of the universe. I don't mean to be morbid in my post. The backdrop of the story is tragedy, and the grief around it is real. Death is perhaps the ultimate mystery. But from time to time we run into a particular reminder of these mysteries and we stand in awe. Or at least I did last night.

Writing fantasy, as I do, is not so strange in light of the actual oddities of life. It's actually quite boring compared to the real deal.

What do you do in face of Mystery? Somehow, as uncomfortable as it makes me feel, it also brings comfort.