Reaction Time

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Newton's Third law of motion. We've heard it a hundred times, but have we ever stopped to think what it truly might mean? Especially to a fun-lovin', treasure-huntin' Bunny like me?

I have, and more than once. The classic explanation is simple, even obvious - in order to propel an object forward, an equivalent force must be exerted backward (onto a resisting or more stable force if you actually want "forward" instead of "staying put"). A diver bounces on the board to get maximum height from a low position. A runner cues up on blocks (anchored to the track) that remain stationary so he can utilize all of his push-off instead of wasting some of it on the gravelly spurt of old-time races. And to move very quickly (called "jetting") an octopus shoots jets of water out of its ... well, its butt and mouth seem to be in sort of the same place, so I'm not sure I want to go there. Suffice it to say, the eight-legged beastie is going in head-first - and sort of blind.

The decidedly non-classic explanation is more complicated.

See, essentially, every time you take an action in life, good or bad, this law states you leave ripples in your wake. That's easy to understand - we've all hurt or been kind to someone and seen the results of our action pretty quick. But usually it's confined to the other, not to ourselves, right? So why do all the major religions and philosophies have a version of Newton's law?

They do, trust me. Call it Karma, the Law of Returns, or Reaping and Sowing, it's all the same: not only is there an equal reaction trailing behind us, somehow it actually comes back to us, and in the same form, too.

Part Conservation of Energy ("it can neither be created nor destroyed"), and part Inertia (it'll keep moving in the same direction something else acts on it), it starts to make sense if you mix in a little blast from the past - a Mobius Strip.

You remember making those, right? Elementary school? Take one long, straight band of paper, give it a twist, then glue the ends together. Now trace its flat face with your finger, never breaking contact. Around and around and around, always coming back to the beginning, always running over again - a freeway that never ends, maybe even gets faster and faster as it goes, until your eager hand snaps the paper and breaks free of the system. That's what happens to all that energy we expend, I think; it comes back to us over and over (because it's in motion) until we figure out how to end (or never leave) the crazy, spiral circle of consequence.

I've been thinking about this a lot today, mainly because I threw one doozy of a tantrum yesterday.

I went (early) to my thrift store, for the first time in five weeks, picked out a couple of decent pieces from a very picked over inventory, then wandered around to see if anything else caught my eye. By the time I returned, three other shoppers were there. The clerk brought out a box of new items (I hadn't asked if there was anything not yet out), and we all dug in - I ended up snatching for some reason (first mistake), and in my haste dropped a bagged pendant to the counter, unnoticed, where another person picked it up. I should have just taken it (it was $3.99) when I grabbed it, but in my greed, I didn't. By the time I noticed, it was too late to get back - and the nearly unreadable marking turned out to be (we think) 14K, so the green stone is probably an emerald (dark, so engineered or South American) and the white ones are probably diamonds. Not mine, though. Hers.

At least I waited until I got to the car before I went all Krakatoa.

After one broken blood vessel in my hand (from pounding the steering wheel) and a sore throat from growling and crying, I thought about what just happened - all of it. I don't know which was the more horrifying image - my Gollum imitation in the store ("my precious") or the screaming, rampaging Harpy driving down the parkway.

What I now realize is that, when it comes to the seven Deadlies, I've not come as far as I'd thought - I'm still rushing around that Escher-like beltway, never getting anywhere near ahead, just racing foward and spinning my Dharma.

Everything I do shapes everything I do. That's the weirdness. And the cure.

I have to remember that chasing cold, hard cash isn't my goal - financial serenity is. I have to remember that it's not about sublimating my fear (denial) but replacing it. I have to remember that I cannot build the future I want on envy, greed, anger, and fear - if I wanted that kind of false, house-of-cards construct I would have gone into the banking and investment industry. I have to remember that the only way out of this eternal loop is to focus on, and to truly believe in, the cure for that toxic triad - joy, generosity, calm ... and trust.

Yes, trust. Especially trust - trust that I'm on the right path, trust that I have a future at all (no matter who says I don't), and trust Mama Angel who continually tells me that somehow, somehow, everything will work out.

Because she'll always show me where the glue is.

Eventually.