SHOPPING AND CHOPPING LISTS

  What if it is all is part of a plan?

  I’m not talking about the big ‘ole God’s Plan for all of us specks. Nope. I’m talking about all things in an area having no value other than their use for the moment. Other than that, the stuff (when it is not being used) is just stuff that has no real value. Like a fork in a drawer, a hammer on a shelf, or an apple that has fallen from a tree in the middle of nowhere.

  What if people fall into this concept of stuff. What if each of us isn’t the center of the universe? We are only grains of sand on a very big beach. If someone needs some glass, then some sand gets scooped for the furnace. Those grains are serving a purpose. The rest of the grains just soak the wind, water, sun, and bird poop.

  This leads me to a question: is ‘good’ pointless, or is it a kind of weakness? With a ‘toolshed’ point of view of us mortals awaiting their job number to get picked, the concept of ‘good’ fails when set outside of the immediate group of human ‘tools’. The only answer that comes to mind is a kind of question: Is ‘goodness’ / morality a kind of control mechanism, like an adaptable lynchpin that keeps all the cogs spinning where they are supposed to? I suppose that the ‘Greatest Good’ would be either the clockwork frame or the clockmaker itself.

   OK, I’ll come back down. Here’s the deal It’s just that I’ve been unable to connect with folks around me very well as of late. My oldest was happy about getting some rollerblades the other day. No… ecstatic would be the better term. You know how they act; all fidgety and talking a mile a minute.

   I felt nothing. Just another thing to watch out for. This new ‘sport’ was something for me to schedule into my day…

#14: Clean the gutters out.
(adjustment) #15: Teach the kid to rollerblade.
#16: Put up the snow gear…

   So I’m moving to zero on the sliding scale of empathy. Looking at the ‘to do’ list, I suppose I still have a decent amount of compassion. I don’t think I’m autistic. I don’t overly fixate on stuff. Most of the time, I’m just trying to clear out whatever problems are messing up my day; like a fighting-flight response or something like that.

   That’s why I’m stuck writing the dreams down. I just want them gone so that I can move on with my life. Clear the white noise and all of that.

- I.K.