The mug slipped from my hands and crashed into the sink, cracking itself open on the tap as it fell. Gravity, there’s no escaping it – unless you have twenty million dollars to spend on a space flight. The mug was beyond repair. It was a gift from a friend who knew I was low on mugs. Why? Because they break. Entropy conspires with gravity and things crash, crack, shatter and smash. I would have to live in a world of foam and feathers to avoid that.
Some may say I’m clumsy but it’s beyond my control. Entropy sees everything crumble to dust eventually.
I’ve heard a theory espoused by a particularly happy chap. He believes that entropy began with the Big Bang. Therefore when the universe reaches its final boundary, and its expansion reverses to rush back in on itself, so entropy will reverse also. When that happens all the things we’ve broken will fuse back together, all erosion will reform, everything will magically fix itself and all will be whole and pristine. Unfortunately at about the same time as everything gets better, the enormous gravity of a Black Hole will render us all dust again. But the thought of reverse entropy keeps him amused, anything to help him through the damage and loss that every day brings.
I picked the broken pieces out of the sink and realised that my favourite bowl had been chipped by a flying shard of porcelain. I loved this bowl, it reminded me of careless summer days, strawberries and laughter. I looked at the small scar it now bore on the rim and my first thought was to throw it away. It was damaged, sullied, no longer perfect. Why would I want something that was no longer beautiful, that was disfigured? Instead of summer and laughter it reminded me that we are all victims of forces beyond our control.
But, as I went to toss the offending object, a little smidgen of compassion entered the equation. It wasn’t the bowl’s fault it was no longer perfect. A small chip adds character and another chapter to its story. As well as good times it’s seen adversity and come through only slightly scathed. It was still useful and still beautiful. And as I realised I was going to keep the bowl I also realised a little smidgen of compassion for myself and those around me. How harsh it is to expect all things to be perfect and beautiful. Life gives us gravity and entropy, chips and scars. It’s inescapable. We choose how we respond.