ABI SESSIONS

“Happy new year!” “Happy new year!” With The Holidays soon to be past, you’ll hear it from just about everyone you meet on the street. It’s a pleasant greeting. Friendly. Well-meaning. Cheerful.

But I am not cheerful. I am glum. I am grouchy. I do not think 2025 will be a happy year in our corner of the world. I anticipate 2025 with dread. I fear the actions of our next President. Lately it seems there’s always a lump in the pit of my stomach and a rising anxiety.

So many systems and institutions seem broken now. Riddled with cracks. And in through those cracks pour grief, anger, fear, outrage, anxiety. I am angry and fearful. I am grouchy.

Seeking to help me calm down with a different perspective on things, our wise daughter introduced me to a traditional Chinese parable. This is how it goes:

Once upon a time, there was an old farmer who had worked his crops with a trusty horse for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Your good horse is gone,” they said sympathetically. “Such bad luck!”

“Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it two other wild horses. “How wonderful!” the neighbors exclaimed. “Not only did your horse return, but you received two more. What great fortune you have!”

“Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see,” answered the farmer.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. “Now your son cannot help you with your farming,” they said. “What terrible luck you have!”

“Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see,” replied the old farmer.

The following week, military officials came to the village to conscript young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. “Such great news. You must be so happy!”

The man smiled to himself and said once again, “Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see,”

The story stops there, inconclusive. How does it end? We’ll never know.

The moral of this story is that no event, in and of itself, should be judged as good or bad, lucky or unlucky, fortunate or unfortunate, but that only time will tell the whole story. So even events that appear terrible, like the election of our next President appears to me, may prove to have a “silver lining,” an unforeseen upside.

I try to imagine what such an upside might be. Congress begins to function as an independent body again, summoning courage just in the nick of time to check a dictator’s ambition? His declaration of martial law and cancellation of elections provokes an uprising that drives him into exile in Moscow and we are rid of him forever? Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see.

So many systems and institutions are broken, riddled with cracks. What if those cracks could let in not fear, but light, so that we might see more clearly? What if those cracks could let in not anger, but kindness, so that we might heal our communities? What if this crisis could be an opportunity for something better? Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see.

Abi Sessions, formerly of Cornwall, lives in Weybridge with her husband, Bill.