Inspiration Strikes at the Dentist: The Butterfly Effect Seen at La Mesita Park

I find myself writing today, all because my tongue recently detected a pinhole-sized aberration on the surface of my tooth. From the moment that I felt the divet, I knew that I should call our dentist. If there is one sure thing that teeth can teach us, it's that we ought to take care of concerns while they are small, before they snowball into much more painful and expensive problems.

Within a few short minutes of the exam, my dentist informed me that an old filling had in fact broken off, and so it was a good thing that I had come in. The funny thing is that the tooth he identified as needing to be refilled wasn't even the one that brought me to his office in the first place. The cause of my worries was not a concern after all.

As I sat in the dentist's chair getting numbed up, drilled, and filled, my dentist was kind enough to mention reading my previous writing for La Mesa Patch. We had a whole conversation that took us from his experiences growing up in Hawaii with parents who daily read both morning and afternoon editions of their local paper all the way to his current experiences reading and critiquing both print and online news outlets.

After not feeling inspired or energetic enough to blog for the past couple of months, I sat with my mouth propped ajar and could feel the drive to write building up inside of me. As much as I had dreaded what possibly might be revealed about my tooth, I ended up leaving the dentist's office with three positive results: 1) I was reassured that the tooth was okay, 2) I ended up catching a problem with another tooth that I wouldn't have discovered otherwise until months from now, and 3) I was ready to write again.

The chain of events that took me from feeling a dental irregularity about a millimeter in size to now sitting here at my computer reminds me of the butterfly effect theory. The idea is that something as small, subtle, or gentle as a butterfly flapping its wings can influence the formation of something as large and powerful as a hurricane.

On the grand scale of importance, writing about my tooth and the dentist is rather unremarkable. Still, I am reminded of how even the smallest of things may in fact cause real change, even change that is remarkable.

With the recent rainy weather, it is fanciful to imagine our storms—although far from hurricane-level—being influenced by butterflies flapping their wings somewhere across the world. Whether or not people welcome the rainy weather, I do not see how anyone can deny how beautifully fresh the world seems after a night of showers.

I enjoyed time with my kids at after last weekend's rain ended, and while they reveled in the puddles, my gaze went to the crisp blue skies. Perhaps some butterflies brought the storms, but that also meant they brought the beauty that followed.

Thus, when I find myself feeling overwhelmed lately by the challenges that surround me—whether it is lamenting my very upside-down home mortgage, worrying about the long term stability of my employment, or pondering what type of future awaits my children—I must remember that even my choices that seem to lack power and influence in an immediate or substantial sense can perhaps make a difference.

My hope is that it is a difference that is ultimately positive and even beautiful.