As I write this blog, millions of acres of forest continue to burn in California.  It's tragic, so very tragic.  Lives lost, livelihoods destroyed, homes gone.  And more.  To the south, a hurricane is sweeping through the Gulf states, inundating the land with high winds and several feet of water with no respite.  Treasured possessions, innocent people, much loved dwellings:  gone forever.

     Loss is one of the most difficult things about being human.  As finite beings, we have no way to resurrect what is now gone.  Once we lose something, be it a person, place, or thing, we cannot bring it back.  We're helpless before the trauma and entropy of existence.

     More than one philosopher has noted that, in the big picture, all on which humans can really count is their will.  Their passion, their impetus, their desire.  Whether people win or lose, they do so amidst their efforts to exercise their will.

     If this is absolutely true, we are indeed faced with a decidedly bleak existence.  We wonder, we wander, we glory:  we live life to the fullest.  We "will" our way through our days.  Then we die.

     Yet if the rhythms of the planet are to mean anything, loss also means, in some way, gain.  Only if, however, we acknowledge the we live in a framework of purpose larger than ourselves.  Otherwise, any and all material and worldly gain will lose again.  And again.

     In a finite world, we cannot "will" ourselves into meaning.