Feb 2021
In dozens upon dozens of donut experiments igniting my joints on fire, a previously substantiated fact is known; sugar makes my body ache, but it matters not, because all evidence is easily cast aside when life happens.
Like when the guy cuts the long line at the grocery store then, slowly glances around innocent, wide-eyed as if to say, “Who me?” You know ‘em, the thirty something, collar turned up on one side of his ca-ca brown LL Bean jacket, hands dug down into his jean pockets, a real big shot or how about the infuriating beep-beep, a millisecond after the traffic light turns green and in your rearview, you see what looks like the same guy from the store but it’s not, it’s a woman in a Mercedes, with her leather-gloved, you know which finger, placed on the dashboard.
And believe me, I can go on about the stash of resentments available to me if there’s any down time in my immediate vicinity, I can count on these oldies but goodies to awaken my sugar monster, to rattle her cage and I wonder is anyone out there even remotely like me, anyone believe life could be, should be less trying and a bit kinder. I mean how about a few break-evens, try if you will, to imagine making a RMV phone call answered by a pleasant RMV staffer who fixes your problem in five minutes flat.
Okay, you got the picture, which brings this question, why do I make my life such a hassle, it is me after all doing the **** complaining, comparing, judging, and believe me when I tell you, the buck starts here, I’m my own worst enemy, because all I send out into the universe, I test run on myself first, then after much self-punishment, tired, depleted, I finally stop, worn out, done in.
Then, as if by magic, a friend calls, asks if I’d like to take a walk, be together, enjoy the sun, and just out of my sight, a tender, bright green seed pushes itself slowly, painfully, through its skin-tight shell, while a squished up, sticky, butterfly flails, casts off its chrysalis, neither asking why life has to be so hard. . .
And slowly I remember what I forget time and time again, the substantiated fact that life is miraculous and we are its miracles.
Weird, huh?
Like when the guy cuts the long line at the grocery store then, slowly glances around innocent, wide-eyed as if to say, “Who me?” You know ‘em, the thirty something, collar turned up on one side of his ca-ca brown LL Bean jacket, hands dug down into his jean pockets, a real big shot or how about the infuriating beep-beep, a millisecond after the traffic light turns green and in your rearview, you see what looks like the same guy from the store but it’s not, it’s a woman in a Mercedes, with her leather-gloved, you know which finger, placed on the dashboard.
And believe me, I can go on about the stash of resentments available to me if there’s any down time in my immediate vicinity, I can count on these oldies but goodies to awaken my sugar monster, to rattle her cage and I wonder is anyone out there even remotely like me, anyone believe life could be, should be less trying and a bit kinder. I mean how about a few break-evens, try if you will, to imagine making a RMV phone call answered by a pleasant RMV staffer who fixes your problem in five minutes flat.
Okay, you got the picture, which brings this question, why do I make my life such a hassle, it is me after all doing the **** complaining, comparing, judging, and believe me when I tell you, the buck starts here, I’m my own worst enemy, because all I send out into the universe, I test run on myself first, then after much self-punishment, tired, depleted, I finally stop, worn out, done in.
Then, as if by magic, a friend calls, asks if I’d like to take a walk, be together, enjoy the sun, and just out of my sight, a tender, bright green seed pushes itself slowly, painfully, through its skin-tight shell, while a squished up, sticky, butterfly flails, casts off its chrysalis, neither asking why life has to be so hard. . .
And slowly I remember what I forget time and time again, the substantiated fact that life is miraculous and we are its miracles.
Weird, huh?
