Well, I guess we're more than officially into the fall/winter season now that we've frozen hard. You'll see the last stragglers of the things we picked before the first freeze in the availability, and the first of the carrots and celery are coming out of the fields this week. Enjoy your harvest!
This week's blog:
The world is a conflicted place. The tiny insignificant speck of our lives juxtaposed against the infinite universe causes a great rolling of the eyes as we cry in the shower (or the walk-in—if you know, you know), over our silly little human problems. But narrow down the focus and those problems become tangible suffering to our momentary selves. The shit gets real, so to speak. And difficult.
Still, I contend that we have not only the right to our own joy, but an obligation to it. After all, we are the way (the only way as far as we know) the universe reflects upon itself, and wouldn’t it be a travesty for the tragedy to outweigh the joy. What good is a depressed universe? It is for the great tragedies of the world that I become so committed to joy. We have to maintain some semblance of balance so as not to shift the universe into a darker more somber place. There must be light to balance out the dark. There must be weightlessness to balance out the gravity.
It is a serious undertaking, this commitment to joy and light and weightlessness. It takes effort and discipline and-quit rolling your eyes! I’m serious—practice. Have you tried focusing on a beautiful sunrise in a war zone? Pushing past a heavy veil of grief to find the laughter beyond? It’s not always easy to find the joy. But it looks to me like there’s plenty of darkness to go around, and so I, for one, am choosing to play for the other team. Even when it takes effort and discipline and practice. I might not always excel, but for the universe’s sake (okay, okay, and for mine), I’m going to do my very best.
