0 comments
Okeedokee.
No problemo.
Will do.
Real good.
Bye now.
🫡
Before.
I knew.
What I know now.
I found it too difficult to choose.
Sides.
In the grand scheme of all things active, I did not think it prudent, possible or particularly particular to be particular.
I am a rather,
“All in” kind a kid.
Kinda person.
Inclusive.
Half saluting?—
Not my thing.
Life is seldom so-in-a-box-with-a-bow kind-of
”thing”.
to half-have someone’s back is
Having someone’s back half-a**ed.
Now.
Next lesson: The humility of human anatomy and physiology.
The brain.
Last I knew, we all had one-
Jokes abound about having a half a one.
Seriously though.
It is worth re-visiting.
A nation full of persons, places and things is at stake.
The brain we will save for last.
The last lesson of the day.
The last lesson of a lifelong learner.
Should you care, to be one—A lifelong learner.
Of all things moral.
Of all things ethical.
Of all things possible combining morality and ethics—
Welcome!
We are glad you joined us.
In the interest of desired health. Wellbeing. Light. And wine🤣🍷
I understand when taken in proper “doses” it is, well, yummy.
Should you choose to accept this assignment, of morality and ethicality,
We welcome you.
And all your faults, failings, and wailings.😫
We leave the conclusions of you, to the coroner.
No matter where on the ends of the globe you may seek refuge.
Your own, or another’s.
And.
Not just semi.
Partially. or
Kinda-Sorta.
All in.
Or.
All out.
Life is full of it..
Are you?
Life is full of choices.
Are you?
No one likes to be picked last for the team.
It’s mean.
It’s not even a consolation prize of respect.
Thanks anyway.
Your effort-really counts. For you.
Perhaps your personal journey has a long way to go.
I will pray for you.
In real time. In reality. And not just spoken or empty words. Confident words of spokenality.
Let’s make a deal?
The chance was there, was yours, in your so called capable hands and you chose to
Lie
Big lies.
Hard lies.
White lies.
Black lies.
Lies with flies.
Pathological ones at that.
On the cold coroner flat bed lies.
The ravage is in evidence right there on the bed, floor, in the bed. On the flat, on the flat bed.
On the bed pan.
Why is it, after we die, a cold heartless defeat, the truth comes out in our “parts.”
The truthful parts.
The challenged parts.
The easy-peasy parts.
The over-confident parts.
The “I didn’t pay for it” parts (after someone had already paid, the heavy, heavy price, for you)
And you chose to move along because feelings were too—inconvenient.
The lies we tell ourselves— usually the worst because they involve unwitting participants.
Some people have way too much confidence. (u2) while others, work their butts off to make the ends that mean something, meet.
Others slice and dice their regrets over an open fire for others to burn.
Burn, baby, burn.
Admitting you may have been wrong.
Yikes.
A never ending story of regrets stuffed into the hippocampuses of our existences simply waiting to either affect the heart or the soul.
Where will you be when your explosion occurs.
More important.
Who will be at your side?
When we die, when God calls us home, it is understood our hearing is “the last to go”. Of a person. Who is dying. Isn’t God so beautiful? And right!
We can listen and hear until we draw our last human breath. Even a few minutes after that.
We have every opportunity.
Every opportunity.
To say what we mean to say.
To make the right choice.
Yet we hide.
Behind many, many people, groups, reasons and “movements”.
Flailing our arms in an arrogant attempt to throw the other guy “off.”
To air our dirty laundry on the guy next to us and scurry off like a tiny mosquito, a bug, leaving death and destruction and sorry attempts at excuses.
Who should not even be here in the first place…..
If only animals could talk, right?
They can. They do.
You. Must pay attention.
They never talk back because they do not have to.
They have no explaining to do. They do not have to.
Explain a darn thing.
Humans—a different beast.
Humans. So easy to fool.
So easy to fool.
And fool we do.We even rush in doing it.
Fooling.
We are really fooling—No one.
The amusement comes in the efforts we expound.
The art of the deal.
The art of the day.
Oftentimes the same thing.
Oftentimes the same difference.
Value added.
Supplement added.
The human core. No additives necessary.
It is either in you.
Or.
It is not in you.
To stand up.
Even if and when the little voices in your head throw doubt from,
before.
In the end it does not really matter.
A hand drawn stick figure speaks a thousand words.
Tells us all we need to know.
Art in its simplest, finest form.
It does not tell a life story. The story told in real time, in the moment. Of an often solicited child.
No hands, no feet?
Send to the school psychologist?
No eyes, no nose?
Off to the school principal?
A disturbed cannibalist nutcase in the making?
No body knows.
Life experiences.
Everybody knows.
When nobody tells,
And. The once drawn stick figure breaks into a gagillion tiny pieces….the autopsy may never be conclusive and the insurance actuaries, under their breath, grumble, “sh**”. We paid so much for “that”……..
One tiny stick figure’s explanation of life may take
A thousand words.
For a thousand years.
A thousand years.
In your discovery phase of life existence you may have bore witness through the pictures of the graphic inside of a human—post mortem— would you really believe what you see/saw? It may look unreal, Hollywood in the moment. Would you prefer, would you believe there are a million stories behind,
The moment of impact.
Your choice.
Exercising restraint in the moment of death?
Your choice.
Hanging on: Priceless.
Letting go: Priceless.
What say you?
What do you?
All the art of living lies in the fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.
0 comments