Monica had an epiphany. Her enthusiasm for this event was somewhat diminished by the fact that it’s now widely considered rude to share epiphanies with others, unless of course you’re a celebrity and the rules of social acceptability no longer apply.
As with most epiphanies, the epiphany that Monica experienced related to life’s great question. Prior to her epiphany Monica rarely considered life’s great question. That’s mainly because she had no idea what it was. Instead she devoted her attention to life’s semi-great questions, like why taxes always seemed only to increase and who first thought it would be a good idea to drink the white liquid from a cow’s udder. She recognized that her epiphany related to life’s great question only because it had nothing to do with the questions she really cared about.
I share this epiphany with you because, since I’m not Monica, it isn’t rude for me to share. This was her epiphany. Monica realized that life, the world and all that’s in it, could be explained in the most extraordinary way: maps.
Maps explain everything that anyone could possibly want to know about life. In very concise ways they tell you where you’re going and where you’ve been. They reveal where everything is and what obstacles stand in your way. They help you organize your schedule and even how to treat others. Boundary markers, for example, are ethical barriers that tell you who your neighbours are and who to avoid. About the only thing maps don’t explain is what happens after life, but that’s mostly because no one ever returned from death and left a map. (It should be noted that Jesus Christ did rise from the dead, but he didn’t actually leave a map. How unfortunate.)
Armed with this knowledge Monica returned to school to study cartography. She hoped to become a high priestess of maps. If nothing else it would help her discover her place in this world. To discover anything else she’d have to rely on another epiphany but there was no guarantee that she’d have another one, so this one would have to do.