I do worry too much. Life is short. There is much to appreciate, and many to love. At risk of sounding overly sentimental, I’d like to kiss more young and old folks, and encourage the rest. So much to appreciate! There really is no other way than love. I don’t do this well, but I am working on “figuring it out”. I don’t mean getting fancy new knowledge, as much as letting go of old encumbrance. Mostly, it’s an issue of being honest (thank you, Jeanne), and looking after other people instead of self. Self-thought can poison our ability to give. What else brings meaning, except to offer ourselves to others?
4 comments:
Heavens to Betsy.
Good work Jeanne.
I wish I had kept my big mouth shut. I actually meant in a specific situation. I like you the way you were. Especially in the men's room.
-Jeanne
Oops, that was Brendar in the men's room. Wrong martian. But I mean it. Give me a good kick in the pants instead. I am going to go crawl into a black hole somewhere.
-Jeanne
It is now becoming obvious that I worry too much. But that's what's so irresistable about me. Or so I hope. I think that anyone who is blessed with bird flocks, nearly predicts 9/11 and almost certainly misses the squirrels he aims at worries exactly the right amount.
I'm off to my hole now.
-Jeanne
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