getting wrecked

i have a strange respect for those who's lives are getting wrecked. whether it's a good wrecking or a bad one there is something so powerful about it that it almost demands your respect. it is the act of watching someone wipe the slate clean....a blank page. death, a lost job, a lost love, a dream that's died. it wakes us up a bit to realize that we are not the masters of our own universe... that we choose things in our life, but there is that part of life that happens to us and in us that has nothing to do with our choice. It chooses us. Getting wrecked (read: suffering) is a paradoxical gift, a sort of bloody, traumatic, awful, strange gift. the question presents itself when faced with this idea...what do you do with bad news? the really bad kind? what does it do to your heart? after the pain and tears what are you left with? when this subject comes up i tend to have more questions than answers...there is power in the questions, and if the answers came easy, the questions wouldn't be worth asking.