So I was getting more natural light, and that was going great guns, really helping my mood and sleep. Literally, to just look at the open sky and thank God for it. And it becomes more and more and unfocused, deep gratitude.
I was having as it were, kind of a "thing", reading that people always wanted more money, and money never equated to happiness. The rate of happiness hit a plateau between 75k and 250k dollars. Yet still, people dream of the magic million. That little belt notch of prosperity that is supposedly cause happiness.
And yet elsewhere, I've written an article explaining that 38-55% of the income will be eaten by taxes, and then all sorts of miscellaneous expenses, not to mention a lumpsum payment to one's mate, then loans/gifts to one's other familiars.
It slips from the fingers so easily, then, despair comes back, despair and want.
Rather to be happy without Disney Plus and all that other. Like, shop at Amazon, but don't join Prime. Get an Android phone, but don't upgrade every year.
As is always said, "it's amazing what you can get used to." And yet the commercials and so forth brainwash us into a fantasy of wealth and riches.
I personally, My Cheevers, have learned to be content, whether I am abased or I abound. I can suffer lack or abundance, and inside its all the same: the same 98 degree body temp, same smile.
Same Chevy truck. And I like our Buick a lot, even though its not aging all that well. It still does pretty well, all things considered. Not perfect, but it definitely gets the job done.
I have started a small investment, watching that small amount grow in fits and starts. Patiently watching as the seedling pokes from the dirt, then slowly rises, its tender leaves drooping like a showerhead.
"All those dreams we held so close..." The towers burning, the words scrolling. The video soon banned.
"Seem to lick at Molly's toes...."
"I hate that bedraggledness in your eyes....."
Why not a call to love, rather than hate? A pleasing shade of purple, and Lindsey polishing his one great horn. Why in effect, do we have to mark-out enemies, even if the Rosado brothers spit in our faces on the street? Cousin Mike, they fear you because you did what was necessary for the time. That's a kind of singular power and strength that few among us exercise so effortlessly.
There is more than this, but we are only to see it much later. For now, let us stroke and pet our own familiars, brush at the peculiarities, mourn the dead, but cheer for the living, and put them all to song, the living and the dead. Go forward in love, press on towards the mark.
Go forth in love....
(Note: the photos in the post are two scenes from the state of Nevada, as published by the Atlantic magazine.)
No comments:
Post a Comment