R has gone into town to do a few errands. He will also stop in and see a friend of his who returned from the coast recently. R won't be home until well after lunchtime which means I have a few free hours. Did the old roll the die (The Dice Man, Luke Rhinehart) to see what I'm to do. (As a side note, read reviews of the Dice Man. Polarizing. No one kind of likes it or kind of dislikes it. They either love it or hate it. No middle ground.) Anyway, back to me - I don't quite feel like doing yoga, although it's on the list, along with icky chores like grubbing lantana and digging out the ever numerous khaki weeds. But I was lucky. I rolled 'Blog'.
Don't often blog, usually because blogging, at least for me, requires solitude. R, bless him, usually wanders in with a 'whatcha doin'?' at least once. I don't write things that he can't read. Nevertheless, the words don't flow if someone if peering over my shoulder. Even if they aren't. It's his presence that puts me off. Not because it's him. Anyone in this room, save for a cat or 3, would throttle the flow. If there is a flow.
Blogging or keeping a journal is something I should do on a daily basis. For my own mental health. "We all skate so close to that line and so far from satisfaction." (Joni Mitchell, Song for Sharon, Hejira). I'm usually pretty adept at skating far away from that line and being satisfied. I make a practice of gratitude and seeing beauty. I look for it. Living well means working at it. Being happy doesn't just happen, one has to find the happiness in spite of appearances. For the world is apparently a cruel and unhappy place. Seriously cruel. And senseless. I think there's hope and then read of 148 students being massacred in Kenya because they weren't Moslem. And the same mindset? 'God hates Gays' iced onto a cake, except the baker refused to do so. Humans must have a stupid gene encoded into our DNA, one that compels us to knowingly self destruct, not only self-destruct but have enough despair and self-loathing to take everyone down with us. In view of what scrolls across my retina every day, it is hard to remain hopeful. And happy. Is the way to preserve happiness possible only by ignorance? Don't watch the news, don't read the news, love my husband, ride my horse, pet the cats, listen to the birds, cook fine meals, create drawings, read nice books. Is that how one keeps hold of happiness?
Believing in the crap of evil, does that create more? I'm not of the mindset of revenge. History proves revenge just perpetuates violence. But I do get frustrated with us. We seem to be an experiment gone wrong. There are so many lovely normal people who just want to be here, want to love others and be loved in return. Unfortunately, they get subsumed by the crazy people and become victims. Like the refugees in Yemen, trapped between two murderous ideologies which will sacrifice them without a qualm.
Yesterday, as Balthazar grazed on the sweet grass in Pedersens laneway (at ride finish, I dismount, loosen girth and walk him home, allowing him to graze on the way), I looked up. A fig tree was brilliantly lit against the sky. The grey white bark and the dark green leaves were so sharply etched it looked like a two dimensional Japanese woodcut. Just an idle glance and breath taking beauty right there for the looking. For free. All around. Peace and happiness. One has to make a choice. To brush away all the dross and believe in Beauty and Truth and Happiness. Despite appearances to the contrary.
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