Thrive!

It’s interesting, people’s reactions, their choices. Sometimes I wish I could manage them. Sometimes it would be nice to just manage my own.

Neither of those work — much. I’ve got the anti-Midas touch.

We are all inextricably connected  — all befriended, enemied, spoused, familied, churched, vocationed, ganged, communitied, nationed, planeted, universed.

There is no my way, only our many ways all waying along with each other down a wayward road. We live roped together, stringed, tangled — like fishing line. Life is a snarled mess of togetherness.

We show up, they don’t. We are late, they are early. They say thank you, they don’t. They get offended, we don’t — or we do. We like, we love; we hit, we shove. The immediate and particular status, motive, inclination, sincerity, immorality and civility of the heart  — it’s a mystery. We lack social acutance.

What to do?

I’m abulic; I’m not.

“Help!”

Do I pick at people, or shut up mostly?

Do I chill, chomp, churn, chuff or chew?

Do I get over it, look over it, look under it, or blow it up with an IED, an Incendiary Emotional Device — twice?

Lately I’m tying to shut up more. It’s not working totally, but accepting imperfection, allowing for error, being good with less-than-what-I-want — in others, in myself — it has a kind of cracked beauty to it, a dented loveliness, a rusted sheen.  It’s ameliorative.

It’s a bit like God — robust graciousness.

Forget the akrasia. Forget harsh judgment. Staying calm, nobody getting dinged up much more than they already are — that is kind of working for me lately.

Being good with a bent-fork, cracked-mug, chipped-plate humanity — it’s easier on me than the alternative.

And the other people in my life — they are liking it just fine too.