A True Human Life

So I went to the bazaar (T.J. Maxx and Marshall’s) today. The sun is out so it was a glorious expedition after days inside watching it rain.

I scored some sale sweets and two green sweaters on sale. I bought a rug to replace the one by the sink but it just didn’t look right, so I took the rug by the stove and put it by the sink and the one by the sink I put by the stove. Et voila! I can take the new one back.

As I inhabit my seventieth decade, I feel rather girlish psychologically. Yes, I still like the same things I always have. I haven’t given up much outside of travel. I was never a big traveler anyway.

So how I am different? Well, I have studied spirituality for decades now and I still experience fear and anxiety when my security is challenged. Guess what? I am a normal person, come to realize.

As much as I love studying the Self and the lower-case self that I am, sometimes the two parts disagree. I usually let the self win, while knowing I am fooling myself.

Churchy people turn me off; that will never change. But atheists hold no interest for me, either. Nor do do-gooders. They can do all the good they like all the time; it doesn’t affect me.

I am not political. The closest I get to politics is enjoying humor about it.

I don’t drink, smoke or do drugs. I am addicted to chocolate, coffee, solitude and TV.

I am finally and foremost, a confused human being that for this incarnation has undergone tragic events twice. I hold no false hope about things getting better. Instead I appreciate the little ground that I have gained. The only people that really know me are my son, my brother and sister. They seem to love me and think I am mostly okay. Okay is about as good as I get. If I go beyond OK, I suspect someone is lying to me!

We all want the same thing. Loving acceptance and being left alone at the same time. Good luck with that! Let the politicians pollute our ears with false promises. Let the heathens rage. Ring the bells that still can ring. (And so I do what I do: write essays) Ding dong! Vicki Woodyard calling.