A few days ago I was driving along a New Jersey highway when I heard a loud crack. It sounded like a rock had hit my windshield – HARD – but I didn’t see anything. I arrived at my appointment minimally concerned.

By the time I went back out to my car, I noticed a small crack at the very top of the windshield, right where it connected to the roof. Didn’t look too bad, I thought.

By the next morning, a large s-shaped fissure had developed down the center of the glass. Uh-oh.

With all the trucks on the highway (and the questionable state of the roads), flying rocks are a part of life. But this one was big enough, or fast enough, to cause a fault that would expand its way all the way through the windshield.

I couldn’t help but think about how this is just like life. (A sneak peek into my brain, in case you were wondering.)

We get hit by small stuff all the time. Maybe it makes a sound and startles you. Maybe you miss it entirely. But then one day something big comes along. It could be big enough to immediately shatter whatever it hits. No ambiguity there. It demands immediate attention and reminds us of the most traumatic events of our lives – death, divorce, illness, unabashed failures.

Other times, even though we’ve taken a big hit – we FELT it! – it looks, at first, like everything is OK. It’s not. The small crack, which begins imperceptibly, grows and grows until it is undeniable. We keep going, unaware of the imminent shattering until it takes over our whole vista.

Unkind words or deeds I just can’t shake. Not letting myself fully recover after intense exertion. Heartbreak. They all fall into this category.

I can replace the windshield (after a $100 deductible, of course), but how does one replace the internal brokenness? Or better yet, how does one transform the brittle glass of our being into something soft and flexible that bends and bounces instead of breaking?

I don’t want to be glass, no matter how beautiful. I want to be water, with the infinite power to hold and move and carve out its reality. I would never wish the big rocks away (at least most of them) but I want them to cause waves and ripples that take me to new places. Not destroy me.

I want to stay aware enough to know that a big, fast rock just hit me and I can’t just keep going as before.

This is why I practice. This is why I rest. This is why I let myself feel whatever I’m feeling FULLY even when it’s ugly or unacceptable.

The nature of waves is to disperse and dissipate. To rise and fall. To move through and out.

As I look through my brand new windshield, free of cracks for the moment, I ask only to know the flow that brings me back to new again.

What rocks are you experiencing in your life? Are they bouncing, breaking or creating waves?