With great thanks to all those who wished us well yesterday, we move forward into a new week that seems bound to substitute cacophony for content. Yes, a father pardoned a son. For all the screams and howls, the pedantic protests are superfluous. Empty rhetoric carries no consequence. There is no power in a 100-day agenda, either. Rules must still be followed. There is no penalty for time taken. Media desperate for eye-catching headlines stoke fear where there is no danger.
Take a moment. Breathe. We’ve wound our emotions so tightly that we’re ruining the things that should bring pleasure. People have gotten hurt. Fines are being levied. If the loss of a game adversely affects one’s life, does not the consequence belong to you, not the team? Media encourages putting money at risk, but your hands place the bet. The money you lose profits those already rich. Better we watch the games in silence than bring ourselves to hatred and poverty.
Worry gets us nowhere. Already, natural elements fight against the empty threats of a blithering fool. Tree workers with chainsaws are more dangerous to your grandparents than most political threats. Snow threatens more lives than do meaningless embassy appointments. Most of us choose the content our eyes see. If we choose to linger among the purveyors of fear then we create for ourselves an environment of concern. Can we not peruse information elsewhere? Are there no books that need to be read? Solutions are seldom found on a web page.
December offers too many alternatives to fear. Art installations are almost everywhere this time of year. Whose heart is not buoyed by spending time with pieces of beauty? Networks do their best to shove elements of peace and goodwill at us whether we observe a holiday or not. After spending more than $10 billion on Friday, Shoppers are likely to set another record today. Need support? Here, buy this bra. If all you do is sit at home and worry, there is no one to blame for your angst but yourself.
Even as we look toward the new year, perhaps the best response to all the drama is to take an art class. It may well add another seven years to your life. At least, Jane Fonda thinks so. Yesterday’s video is included for your benefit.
Getting older doesn’t mean dreams age, either. Thinking one is 18 again, attending a prom that never happened, fortunate that the vomit wasn’t real, and neither was the rejection, shows how flexible our minds can be.
Although, thinking I’m being kissed passes from joy to disappointment when I wake and find that it is only Solaris nibbling at my face, wanting food.
There are reasons to smile today. Look away from your screen and you may find them.
Tuesday Morning Update:12/03/24
A lot of snow is not required for lives to be endangered. Temperatures keep us huddled next to anything or anyone who is warm. Apologies were necessary as staples ordered while the sun was shining had to be delivered in negative conditions. Questions linger this morning with the possibility that buses will not deliver the kids to school on time.
While sitting in a waiting room, my coat and hat still in place, a man approached, distracted by my appearance. Standing before me, he said, “I just wanted to get a good look at you.” He took a seat nearby and continued. “Your look, it’s … what’s the word… ‘legendary?’ No, more like… ‘iconic.’ That’s it, you’re totally iconic.” A nurse called his name as I questioned the man’s mental condition. What are the motives behind compliments to strangers? Politics have taught us to question the subtext of the most simple and generous statements. Kind words are approached with suspicion. Our level of trust in fellow humans grows thin.
Actions speak volumes above words. Where one goes, what one does, shows more than character. What is one’s purpose? What motivates a soul to put their interests above others? Words can be a distraction. Actions tell no lies. Threats of what one might do are empty. Look instead at the steps they take, the people they hold close, and the rules they break. Do not stand so close as to become a victim of the shrapnel from other people’s lives.
Still, the words we choose are a reflection of our society. ‘Brain rot’ has become something more than a medical issue. Such language threatens to become a tool of racism. Vocabularies such as demure, slop, dynamic pricing, romantasy, and lore shape the context of who we are, the values we hold, and how one perceives their world. I question whether we weigh the weight of our words before we speak. Even when we fling terms and threats around with no regard, they can still cause damage when they land.
So many thoughts are filling my brain, yet few are worth the pain of typing. Time passes. Whether the page is made of paper or pixels, I still stare at the blankness and question how to fill it. Sometimes life is the same. How one chooses to fill the blank pages of their lives reveals their reality and the flaws of their mortality.
Sitting on my desk is a book I’ve yet to start that ultimately deals with the reality of the author’s death. I pick it up, open the cover, and then return it to the place on my desk from where it beckons to be read. Do I want to open myself to this conversation? Will pondering mortality shape my future reality?
There are cats demanding petting. There are meds waiting to be taken. There are naps hoping to be embraced. I do not care if the snow melts. I am here. I am warm. I do not long to wander.
Share this:
Like this: