Today we drove some more today to Philly where we’ve been trying to make peace in the midst of all the upheaval. The hotel is a mess but we finally got the internet to work. We ate a Famous Dave’s and did ice cream. Overall, a nice day with laughter and reading like usual. I like days like that. Sometimes I feel the pressure to be better, do better, speak better, think better. Not in the ability of these ideas but in the quality. This is more acute when I’m learning to live with new people, those who don’t share a head with me. It will be a pressure that haunts me until I die, probably, or until Jesus comes again as I doubt I will ever share a head with someone.
The world is full of art and also graffiti: the soft, purposely chosen colors and sounds of grandeur juxtaposed to the mishaps, missteps, misuses of the same. I cannot be a poetic as Norman Maclean from A River Runs Through It, but I can understand the beauty with his words and story. They are those of hope mixed in with reality. A day might be filled with deep laughter and insightful books while at the same time, frustrations mount and promises and ideals are broken. Does it cause me to stay in bed, avoiding a new day’s sun? Do I ignore that which doesn’t shine and smile? Do I pull on my striped socks (or waders) for another day, willing and desiring to do better, act better, believer better? Pressure brings the pleasure of possibility…
No comments:
Post a Comment