And at this point–when it comes to the edge of my 79th year on this planet–I might be ready:
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay–Robert Frost
Lord. I only wish it could stay. That the precious and the beautiful could last forever, and that I could force it to do so.
But I can’t. I’ve gone back and forth over the months and years, WRT where I am on this, but–ultimately–all that matters is where I am on this today. And where I am on this today is that I am content. Any one else–on this matter over the past many months–you do you. K?
Why, for some reason some loon reading this (or his acolyte) may feel it necessary to keep whining about himself or yourself, or how you’d wish I felt about him–have at it.
Most recently, I attended a charming wedding, together with a gathering from friends, colleagues, church members and random acquaintances (of which I was one!) has convinced me that–all other nonsense to the contrary–most of us living normal lives out here in the normal world, are pretty normal. Yes, we are.
I get tangled up every now and then in discussions–particularly on Ricochet where I’m a fairly active member with those who think I’m some sort of loon. They think that because they’re so heavily invested in what’s wrong with our world–feminism, transgenderism, affirmationism, etc–they simply can’t see beyond or before that. And so they squelch my “anecdotal evidence” as to statements that “the rest of the world is pretty normal” as it suits them.
Unfortunately, those I should be in concert with get lost in the mess. I’m sorry about that, but I’ve learned–over the years–that the defect belongs to them, not to me.
Meanwhile, got to go shovel out the barn.