Mom asked me an existential question today. She winged a Creamsicle at me yesterday and not because she thought I wanted one. I better pay attention to this, I thought. She is trying to say something. She was frustrated, speechless, unable to communicate what is going on inside. Finally she focuses her aim and says: “Why does evil exist??”

She has been asking me for years to explain that to her. She is asking the right question, I believe, too.

Why evil exists and how to think about it correctly and courageously may just be that which stills that roiling ocean that goes through all our beings. The one that drives people to insanity or to a lesser degree compels us to “get our house in order” like mom. Uncertainty can compel all kinds of behavior.

There are scientific explanations for human behavior like compulsive cleaning. Therapists offer “behavioral modification” techniques. Drug companies can help neurological problems in our brains, fortunately for me.

But the problem of evil isn’t solved by a scientific solution. This must be true because many evils in history were done in the name of science. Evil, uncertainty, fear are immaterial things. Scientists can not cure problems in this realm, despite all their theories and measuring devices. How does one measure Horror? There isn’t a pill for that.

So evil supersedes us- that is- it must come from somewhere that is beyond our material world and beyond our sensory perception. (And therefore we are subject to it to the degree we are ignorant of it.) The ability for us ‘to know’ that evil exists with our minds suggests our minds have been dramatically underemployed when it comes to solving the problem of evil.

My mother wanted to know why evil exists? What am I going to tell her? How do you define evil? She added to her focused interrogation: “And how do we decide what is evil or good?” Mom continues to describe her uncertainty and anxiety like this: “What is roiling in your guts? Is it love or fear or hate? What is That?? Would we like it if our behavior was reciprocated?? Don’t people ever think that?? Why not??”

When I wrote Hens and Mothers I was correct. Mom appeared to be experiencing this roiling, which is why I described her as an ocean storm roaring about our house. Organizing, reorganizing, so everything is some where else. Our home is like a kaleidoscope- every time you look in it, everything has changed around. Some days she’s like a bolt of lightening with crisp and terrifying criticism. Angst. Roiling, unresolved thundering that need answers.

We say mom is like a barometer in the weather as storms throw her off balance. Likewise, she is tuned in to another frequency when it comes to the struggles and storms of the soul.

What is the language of this realm of experience?

Evil must be a distortion or opposite or impostor of some greater reality. That is what I think. Fear, chaos, the ‘unknown,’ and the human behavior that emerges as a result proves their is a great gulf of knowledge in our world. Knowledge about the opposite of those things: instead of fear, love. Instead of chaos, order. Instead of confusion (and lies which create it) there is truth.

Last summer I enjoyed happiness with my hens Copper and Rocky, and my two gentle and beautiful hens, Buffy and Lady. And peace. But, Beyond all my best planning, tragedy ensued. Copper died and then Rocky. My storm began, my struggle. Like mom, I have been searching for words!