The view out the window

I have a to-do list in the other room next to the laptop, but I’m not going to fetch it because I want ready to dive into the electronic world just yet. It’s OK to just sit and look out the window and reflect and write before confronting “reality,” isn’t it? We don’t need to tap into the network and be assimilated through all of our waking hours. Resistance is not futile. Viva the revolution.

“Resist!” cries the mob. But what are we resisting? The people who cede their power to the government have been pushing back and forth, trying to force different styles of oppression on the rest of us; one person’s oppression is another person’s “the way it ought to be,” and they’re both generally opposed to actual liberty. Their conversations boil down to “I know you are, but what am I?” Today’s resisters forgave their guy when he was the oppressor in charge.

Is it possible we could live in a world where we love one another, live, and let live? I don’t know, we’ve never tried it. Who will let go of their hate first? Who will accept their quirky neighbors first?

I’ve been trying to adopt a lifestyle of “Love God and love my neighbor.” “Love God” does not mean calling out or fighting people who love God differently from me, who love a different God, or who don’t believe in God at all, because doing so would involve not loving my neighbor. See how simple it is?

But people have a problem with people who see things differently. I wish that could stop, but all I can control is my own reactions. Still, that’s everything. That’s what Gandhi meant when he said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” It starts with me — or, in your case, it starts with you.

Seize the moment

A sweet quote crossed my social media feed the other day. It goes like this:

“Life’s short … You don’t get to live this twice. This is it, the messy, beautiful, imperfect ride we call life. The late-night talks. The reckless laughter. The tiny wins no one claps for. So take the risk. Tell people you love them. Chase the things that set your soul on fire. Dance even if you look ridiculous. Stop waiting for the “right” moment, this is the moment. Make it count.”

There was no name attached to the quote, and I wasn’t able to find out who wrote it using my usual tricks. Did the author send it out into the world anonymously? Probably not.

But, as some people say in these days, the exhortation hit me in the feels. It hit me because there have been more than a handful of times I hesitated at the brink, on the verge, and ended up not doing. Life has turned out just fine, but every so often I think about one of those moments and wonder — “What if —?”

I think a worthy goal would be not to collect as many “what ifs.”

Hoarder in training

After. I’m too embarrassed to share the “Before” picture.

As I was exchanging audiotexts with Mary on Wednesday morning, I said one of my goals for the day was to clear the boxes off the floor in the living room.

“It looks like I’m a hoarder in training,” I said, finding the perfect phrase to describe my housekeeping style over the nearly three years since Red passed away.

Every so often I decide, “That’s it! From now on, a place for everything and everything in its place,” but then entropy kicks in. 

And so the place for those Mannheim Steamroller albums I found at Goodwill last summer turned out to be the box on the floor in front of my stereo system, behind the 1980 John Michael Talbot album that I bought for 19 cents when the old record store closed. When was that, anyway? (Looks it up) Are you kidding me? July 2, 2022?! That’s it! I’m moving boxes today.

Six hours later, I have not removed ALL of the boxes from the living room floor, but I did move the three boxes of LPs into the basement storage room, and more significantly, I cleared an area that can now serve to organize the thousands of hours of entertainment that I own on vinyl, CD, cassette and DVD/BluRay in one big place.

And yes, Mannheim Steamroller is now on the shelf in its rightful place between my Manfred Mann and Marshall Tucker Band albums. For one day, at least, I have successfully established a place for everything.