“Well, does it punk?”
I picture Clint looking down the barrel of the most powerful handgun in the world, lip turned up into a snarl, as he gives me seconds to choose… With my life on the line, the end only moments away…
Honestly? I don’t know. I keep reading and hearing from people that a choice of gratitude and joy is my choice—and I get glimpses into the truth of these (this?) statements. But in a moment to moment life? Nope, I’m not groking it.
And I can hear the tiny violins playing… and the sorrowful cries; “Poor Wilker. Not feeling the joy of living. Not grateful for all the blessings of his life.” Yep, poor, poor pitiful me. Sad but true. (And there’s two music quotes for you – bam! bam!)
It is quite possible that there is too much churning around in my mind and I just need to step off my mental treadmill… Okay, what am I grateful for?
Well, waste management. Amazing how important one finds that to be when it is taken away—as it was this past weekend due to broken pipes. And, yes, I like to show gratitude to the people who come and empty our refuse and recycling cans each week by leaving some fine beer on the cans for them around holiday times; a practice learned from my mother.
There are so many “thankless jobs” that people are undertaking – what am I complaining aboot? (a nod to my Canadian friends)
Well, in a way, it doesn’t matter—if one isn’t feelin’ it, then…