Whenever I post a blog entry that isn't entirely positive, people quite reasonably respond that it's quite reasonable for me to feel that way.
But I don't feel quite reasonable about it. I know what reasonable is, what reality is. But I don't have to like it.
Isn't that the definition of suffering, not liking what is real? Eh, maybe not. More like, not accepting what is real; liking is something else and totally up to the individual. But not accepting is like one of my favorite expressions, peeing into a gale. The wind doesn't stop, and you end up needing a change of clothes.
I've spent a lot of my life trying to convince myself I'm reasonable. Probably because I'm a Thinking type, according to Myers-Briggs. Doesn't mean I always think, but that I try to convince myself that I've always thunk. The reality is closer to being ruled by my emotions, then pretending they make sense according to circumstances. Why would my feelings make (that kind of) sense, or for that matter, why would circumstances, reality, make sense by my limited human standpoint?
If I were to believe that the Universe makes sense according to my understanding, it would mean that I effectively control it, limit it to the set of events that I'm prepared to accept. Okay, I have a healthy, or possibly even an unhealthily large, ego, but it's not big enough to believe that my definition of acceptability plays any role in restraining the Universe from doing whatever the [expletive] it wants.
It appears that the only reasonable thing to do is to admit that I'm not going to find the Universe to be entirely reasonable.