You have to allow for genius in life.
It does happen. There are those with vision and smarts. Coupled with a genuine personality and you have what I call genius.
So I have to tip my hat to Andrew, the creator of this Diaryland place. Perhaps he wasn't the first to accurately create such an online forum as this, he certainly won't be the last. But he did it well, and that counts for something. And as I sit here pecking out a 100th entry, I feel enormously grateful to him for even making the effort which affords me such times as this.
I went a-plunging into the holes in my life and found fish below the ice.
Where hook and minnow failed to work, I found that sometimes you can worry a hand under a gill and bring the gray one flapping into air where his life is in your hand only. Your decision. Do I save him for food later or return him to the atmosphere he is better suited to?
Have I best pleased the creator of life by making his last day fit for me?
I wonder, on the still days of my life, which hand reaches for me, and why. How soon will I be gasping my last breath on some foreign plain. When still days come, have a care to swim a bit deeper, I think. Romping near the surface is not well for you. Only the playful porpoise may do so, and live well.
Being glad for life takes energy, it saps the spirit as much as any depression does. You must want it, reach after it. Riding it out keeps you in the saddle but does not put you on the road.
Stu and I have worked 10 to 14 hour days 7 days a week for the last 2 months. Yesterday, the following exchange took place, at the watering hole.
Stu: "You want another one?"
Outfoxed: "I honestly don't think I could lift it off the bar."
S: "Well then, let's tip this old girl and get outta here."
It was a cold day, a gray one. In the late afternoon we stood outside the bar and looked at very little as an evening sky and a chill wind drove paper in circles around the parking lot.
S: "Tomorrow then, yes?"
O: "Right, my man. Little else to do with the day."
S: "Having no life seems to suit you, though."
S: "Why else would you be happy with only one beer on a day like this?"
O: "Hmmm. You might have a point there, my son. You might have put it in a little happier light, of course"
And that's about as close as we come to wishing each other a good evening. But it seems to work.
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