I spend a lot of time thinking about a lot of things.
Like sustainability and the pollution of the air and wind and water, and land and the people and animals on the receiving end who are as far away from the causal front as the ends of the earth.I think about the people who die young, bright and short and the needless snuffing of light. I think of heaven and hell and am I meditating, listening and acting on the Word of God enough, being thankful enough, loving enough?
Or do I eclipse the light of love and God with my strivings and longings and efforts and readings and studies and desire for a 4.0 and employment and effectiveness and productivity?How fearful I am that my stress may come to nothing and the path I desire and need may be lost to me and my desire to change if not the world but my corner of it, the little one that concerns me by being kind and purposeful and steadfast.
Am I selfish? Does my arrogance still blind me to those right in front of me as I think of a great many injustices of the world and how all productivity and life success tips are tantamount to gas-lighting if the hulking lie of pure meritocracy doesn't budge?
These all sound stressful do they not?
So I sit still and try to remember Louis Armstrong's words about the sky and the people and green trees, red blooming roses, dark sacred night and friends and I love yous and babies and puppies.
Made for me, unworthy, panicky, finicky, sinful me. And for us.
YOU ARE READING
The Ability To Even (Collegiate Chronicles)
Non-FictionNot everything goes according to plans. Lessons and family and life teach you so much as it all swings about. I'm just trying to figure this all out. Join me?
