Inconceivable!

I think everyone has the natural tendency to see what they want to see. Objectivity is still tinged with a subjective strain, because rare is the person that is not biased in some fashion.  Take the news, for example. We tend to favor the outlet that is skewed toward our point of view. I call it “selective outrage.” I get pissed off over the issues that I hold closest and will forego the elephant in the room because it doesn’t support the narrative I am standing by.

I own a Kia Soul, the hamster car.  Not my first choice of a vehicle, but it runs, it’s paid for and gets me around town.  When I first started driving it, I began noticing all the other Kia Soul’s on the road, and many drivers often waved at me.  We saw each other because we had a common reference point.

Be it politics or cars, I’m drawn to people in which I see something in common. If you love The Princess Bride and find someone else that loves it too, the first thing out of both of your mouths in unison is what?

My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!”

Whether kind or sarcastic, positive or negative, uplifting or complaining, I will gravitate toward people that hold my same interest.  

In my grief process, I’ve chosen to set my mind toward beauty and wonder.  I think that’s why I’ve been receiving an unusual amount of feedback from these recent posts.  You want to see it too. Your heart is telling you that there must be more to strive toward. I’m just agreeing with what you already know instinctively and my writing is just furthering the conversation for us.

My Twitter profile says this: Sowing positive seeds in the compost of Twitter on a daily basis.

As a gardener, I’m amazed that cow manure can make things grow better.  The very substance you would never want to step in, let alone let it near your plate, is the material that makes that tomato so wonderful to eat in July.  I scatter my words in Twitter’s shit, knowing that something is going to eventually sprout and flourish someday.

Beauty isn’t threatened, because it knows no bounds. Roses grow amid thorns. The little yellow dandelion pushes its way through the hard crack of a concrete sidewalk. The 100+ year old transplanted daffodils that were taken from the homestead on the farm of my childhood will show up again in my backyard in a few weeks.

Indeed, beauty is fleeting, but I still choose to make it my focus, not the rot and decay that my blossoms will eventually become.  I will spend a lot of energy in these late winter months to prepare for a short season of color and enjoyment. Yes, it’s much easier to go to the grocery store for lettuce than to go through the effort to plant it myself.  But the process of germinating, nurturing, harvesting and consuming is so much more satisfying than just dropping by Whole Foods for a bag of greens. I would miss out on much if ease was my first priority.

Amid the many things that seek to bring me down today, I’ll keep my eyes on that which makes me smile.

I’m a rich man, wealthy beyond dollars.