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It’s A Bet

March 15, 2023

19 of 40

We lose—because we win—
Gamblers—recollecting which
Toss their dice again!

Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson saw the gambling bee – testing each blossom for the nectar that was made honey. We do the same. “We lose – because we win -“

World Wide Entertainment (WWE) creates professional wrestling. It is not sport, there are no empty or full blossoms to be discovered. There is an explicit map of their garden, that they drew, and every Emily watching knows that the “wrestling” is choreography. Made by us, for us,

The WWE wants to allow gambling on the results by those watching the show they created as if it’s wrestlers were bees and those watching can wager on which blossom has nectar, and which is dry.

It would be as if an author wants their readers to buy their book and then bet upon the outcome of their story. Somehow the unknown, but scripted, may be enough to risk in hope. Layering hope upon distraction, in full cynical avarice.

“We lose – because we win – “

We all know our script’s end as we are writing it. We know we die. We gamble that this pleasure or this pain is a bet that we will win validation, or love, or something, before we die. But we only aspire because we fall short. Because, somewhere, there is nectar.

We then make God the WWE, who made the choreography we are trying to predict. But God did not write our script, God made us to find Him. Thats it. There is no map to the nectar we seek.

I admit, I want my children to follow my map. I know they cannot, because they are not me (or their mother.) But I want to win my bet that they find the nectar, even if I have not. My siblings were fully damaged when that expectation, of being their parents, was not who they were.

The bee is not broken when there is no nectar – the bee just moves in the way God made him to the next blossom (made as surely as a WWE wrestler follows his script.)

Expectations of the bee are not those of the wrestler. The bee hopes. The wrestler performs. We want to perform, to win what we know we deserve, because it is scripted for us, but all we, and the bee, has is hope. And faith.

The WWE has no known winners because their script is theirs. Gods script is short, complete, and fully available. We are loved. That’s it. We have been given everything, and that is the full meaning of love.

The bee knows that because there is nectar, somewhere. And he follows that faith.

In the end that is all we have, all that we have been given. The exploding quadrillions of datapoints we now generate every nano second accrue to the fact we cannot know the script, see a choreography, know which way to bet.

The map is in us. All the finite laws of religion can try to be the datapoints we choreograph, but every life knows that there is no map. There is only the hope of Grace that passes all understanding.

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