Monday, September 15, 2014
Today I am grateful for serenity. The world has run amok. Sometimes I wish that I was living in the gilded age and not the information age. Lots of times.
Wouldn’t it be nice to sit around in your gorgeous gown and have “people” fetch your tea, then serve it with little sandwiches with the crusts already cut off, along with cupcakes with two inches of icing and none of it had any calories? If communication from the outside world was necessary at all, it would come in the form of a hand-delivered note presented to you on a small silver tray, inviting you to a dinner party where you didn’t have to bring a covered dish or a bottle of wine. Fantasy? I know. There are down sides to the gilded age, too. There’s the bathroom thing and the corset thing and the disease thing and the lack of sewage treatment smells thing. All of them seem to pale when compared with the news these days.
I monitor my intake of the news as much as I do what I’m eating. Both are a major pain in the ass. I read the newspaper headlines then decide if I want to delve further. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I’m sorry I read further, sometimes I’m not. I know everyone has a platform they support on Facebook and I celebrate their constitutional right to post pictures and articles with abused children or animals, but I will hide the pictures and won’t read the articles. I don’t need more awareness. I’m fully aware. I’m too aware. I’m so aware that if I watch the news on TV after 5 p.m. I won’t sleep at night. I’m so aware that I feel the burdens of the downtrodden, the anxiety of the war-torn and the horrors of beheadings on my flesh, like a lead body suit. I simply can’t allow myself to be so weighed down. Bad news is like calories I can’t shed or that annoying relative who never leaves. The burden is too great.
So today I’m grateful for the serenity of cormorants (John swears that’s what they are, but I never heard of them), just settin’ on some pilings, minding their own business, without a care in the world and nothing to do except wait for the next fish to jump. Serenity.
Each and every day I find something to be grateful for. My gratitude's are heartfelt, personal, moving and often humorous. Facebook followers have encouraged me to branch out. I hope you will relate.
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