RULE 12

 Rule 12: Pet a cat when you encounter one on the street.

The final chapter in Peterson's book is much more personal than any of the others. His daughter has faced a number of health challenges and the author uses her story to help reinforce the overall theme of his book, that is, how one's Being requires Becoming. 

Along the way, he touches on the questions of suffering and misfortune that are part and parcel of all our lives. He uses the example of DC Comics' Superman to make a great point. Interest in the Man of Steel waned in the 60's and 70's because his super powers became too super. As Peterson writes, "A superhero who can do anything turns out to be no hero at all." We are human because we are limited; we are imperfect; we are a work in progress. I like Peterson's logic there. God may have created using his own blueprint but unlike Himself, we have manufacturer defects.

Indeed, suffering is due to our limitations and sometimes life can become unbearable. He makes the claim that the question of suffering cannot be answered by just thinking about it. Rather, he says, "When existence reveals itself as existentially intolerable, thinking collapses on itself. In such situations - in the depths - it's noticing, not thinking that does the trick." 

Again, I couldn't agree more. When I was faced with my own mortality during my cancer struggle, I began to see simple things in a new way. I appreciated the love and support of my wife and all the goodness that makes her the person she is. I noticed how my friends really cared about me and never went to the dark places I visited. I notice too how my body seemed unwilling to stop the fight when my mind had given up, an amazing revelation.

Though I didn't stop to pet a cat, I did notice lots of little things that made me smile.

At one point, Terry and I made it a point to spend time every day thanking God for all the good things He'd given us. I think that made all the difference. Certainly it forced suffering take second place to goodness.  

PS...As I was out walking this morning with my friend Larry who is now palliative, he noticed a dark red caterpillar on the road. "Get that boy back to his home," he whispered, pointing to some grass. I nodded and picked up the little guy. "Well done, Mike. Now he'll have a good day."

Larry doesn't need to read a book to tell him how to look at life these days. 

Well done, my heroic friend.