This month . . . .
Get a Grip, Hold On With Both Hands
As I see it, the world is a silly place. It spins, and we spin around in it heedlessly, or nearly so, like loose grounds in the bottom of a cup of coffee. We seek joy or something like it, by ourselves or with those we choose as our own. We fuss our disapproval with the level of joy we receive out into the void, hoping nay, expecting a recognizable response and, if not that, some satisfaction, as if wed slapped God in the face with our clean silk glove.
Of course that last only applies to those of you who believe in any sort of higher presence. For those who dont, your fuss out into the void bounces around in the cosmos, perhaps popping back in your own face as reconstituted atoms, taking the form of an arbitrary branch bent by the fellow walking in front of you. At this painful affront to whatever calm and dignity you possess, you mutter a running commentary about karma, revenge, poor planning in the local shade-tree commission.