The question “What could possibly go wrong?” is often accompanied by the wry observation, “Famous last words.”
Always consider that the next thing you say or write could be your own “famous last words.”
What would you hope your last words would be?
I hope mine are words of friendship, of peace, of construction and not destruction. I would hate for my last words to be remembered for appealing to less than the best in us. I have been known to let myself down, though, so I know I can’t guarantee that I will go out on a noble note.
The good news is the next thing you say or write will probably not be your last words. I just think it’s wise to consider a bigger picture.
A Facebook acquaintance who spends an inordinate amount of time condemning the current majority party took a welcome break this weekend and posted his top five Dire Straits songs and his top five Dire Straits albums.
“Will soon be back to your regularly scheduled ‘Will America Make It?’ postings,” he concluded with a smiley emoji.
I had to comment: “America will be just fine if we spend more time talking about what connects us, like good music.”
And I believe that. As I wrote last fall, the Monkees had the right idea way back when, when they sang “We’re too busy singing to put anybody down.” It’s hard to throw insults or incendiary devices when there’s a song in your heart and/or on your lips.
His pick for top Dire Straits song was “Sultans of Swing,” and “Making Movies” is his favorite album. Good choices, but his major omission was failure to mention “Walk of Life,” one of the most joyous rock songs of all time. Oh yeah, the boy can play.
The rabbits seem to have spent the winter months increasing their numbers — and when we built this house 13 (!) years ago, there seemed to be nary a squirrel in sight. Now there are bunnies in the backyard every morning, and bushy-tailed rodents annoy the dogs at least once a day.
The most common animal in these parts, of course, is the swift steel one that runs up and down the ribbons of asphalt on the other side of the house. Each one has a story to tell — places to go, tasks to accomplish, people to please, dreams to fulfill. Their sheer numbers are almost overwhelming — so many destinations, so many things to do, so many dreams. And these are only a fraction of the billions of steel beasts in the world.
It is easy to lose track, in a world of billions, of the special nature of each individual. Each life is precious and unique. The advertising man and the politician may try to reduce the horde to piles of lumps to manipulate, but each living and breathing being has a soul that sees the world in its own unique way, steward of a body that has a finite time to pass through this plane of existence, and it is not for us to hasten its demise if we can avoid it. Rather we are here to share this planet as gently as we can.
Recognizing the value of every living creature brings us to a stronger peace. We do not wish to take life, but we do take life, when we prepare a meal, when we build a house, when we drive through a swarm of lake flies. We should not disrupt lives and habitats lightly, and we should do so, again, as gently as we can.
