I had a busy three days last week. Felt ill the first part of the week, but better on Thursday and worked around house, catching up on many chores that I was behind on. And so now I face another week that I must fill with things.
I'm going to try to fill it with writing. Chores, of course. A couple of appointments. But writing. I need to write. To define me again. To move forward. To embrace what's ahead of me and to keep the best of what's behind me.
Throwing the baby out with the bathwater has always been the mark of an immature person. To not realize the good things you have while grabbing for what you think is better.... Does this make any sense?
Hucksters abound on the Net these days. They offer to sell the tips and secrets of an abundant life, a million dollars, perfect health, a glorious life where you rule the world. Maybe they hold sacred knowledge imparted from past gurus and mysterious cabals. I don't know. I can't judge. If what they say works for you...if it makes you happier, if it helps you grow, then go forth and conquer.
But...I have this suspicion that none of that can take place until you take the first step...until you decide to move forward. And then it takes work. Work, work, work.... I've not reached the point that Voltaire did in Candide, ou l'Optimisme where work is the only thing that makes life bearable, but I have reached the point where I don't believe in the free lunch, in the lie that we are owed anything by anyone, in the fear of the unknown in favor of the known present.
As Candide said at the end, "We must cultivate our garden." Wisdom in that, don't you think?
Have a good week in your garden of life.
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