Cabal: (n) a secret political clique or faction.
It was strange.
I woke up, glanced down and it appeared that my leg had a red line going from my knee to my ankle.
Although I would not call myself a hypochondriac, if needed, I can imitate one. It spooked me.
Of course, I pulled up the Internet and found that there were several dastardly explanations. No pleasant determinations for such a mark on one’s flesh. I spent about two-and-a-half hours allowing my brain to go in and out of scenarios about this unknown “line in the flesh.”
I decided to keep it a secret. I didn’t share with anyone else. After all, if my time on Earth was nearing an end, it would be best for my loved ones to be surprised instead of having any elongated sorrow.
Then for some reason, the spirit within me made an internal suggestion to my mind.
“Did you try to wash it off?”
I was offended by my spirit. Such a childish proposal. But so as not to quell the “little fella’s” desire to be heard, I grabbed a wash cloth and simply ran it across my stripe, fully prepared for nothing to happen. It suddenly began to disappear.
It then occurred to me that the previous evening I had eaten a cherry popsicle and apparently it dripped onto my leg and had simply dried.
My problem was solved. Quickly.
So when I saw the word “cabal” today, it reminded me of that incident.
We all look for complicated, fussy, secretive and even difficult answers. That’s why we get political think tanks and theological discussions, and have seminars on this and seminars on that.
But before we go off and find a mahogany table, where we all gather and talk too deeply about shallow problems, grab a damp cloth. Do the obvious. See if the damn problem will just wash away.