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Check your insanity at the Door

Perhaps you want to know which door. Too late to have a choice. It's my door, and you’re already inside. If you felt that this past year was akin to walking on hot coals, with no training, and for a lengthier trial than fifteen feet, welcome! If you think everything was hunky-dory, copacetic, and cool, daddy-o, you're not on my planet and are free to exit. If you do look back scratching your head at mayhem and a cornucopia of nightmares, stick around.

There were moments while watching or reading the news that I thought I would throw up. Despair rising from the solar plexus is a similar sensation. I ranted a fair amount (yes, that began more than a year ago), I lamented, I shook my head until I ran the risk of dislocating my neck. I still ask how such horrors could be happening in my country, in my world, places that I have known to be civilized? This is the sort of cognitive dissonance I was loathe to admit existed, and on a massive scale. As repeated an idea as this has been across most media, I repeat: One plus one does not equal three; three plus one is not equal to five. Whose but a lunatic's or a tragically disabled person's mind could believe otherwise? I leave you there and go on, or my own sanity will once again ebb, slip right through the keyhole, let loose to bump into equally bizarre concepts nearly everywhere. So I presume.

I lack genius, so it will come as no shock (or even small surprise) that I could not absorb theories that might as well have been written in invisible ink, so little substance did they have. At the risk of dropping a political hammer on anyone's toes, I will now leap a chasm to land firmly in my current psycho-emotive la-la land. My New Year's resolutions for 2024 are essentially nil. Habits I wish to snuff are zero. I am aware of my many imperfections. Some are inborn, some are old friends of whom I've become quite tolerant, if not actually fond. So, in place of ceasing the practice of x, y, and z, et al, I am amped up in these arenas:

1.   Laugh more, even a lot more.

2.   Remember how useless worry is. If I do this consistently, I earn a Creamsicle, made with real ice cream, not ice milk like a Dreamsicle. NOTE: I will also accept some kind soul's admiration for my forbearance in the form of a vacation in Pago Pago.

3.   Pray more and trust that I am reaching the God to whom I send my prayers.

4.   Create harmless antics.

5.   Write till my knuckles are callused.


In case you thought there would be more, there are is. That's all I want to say now. You are invited to guess what "more" includes. Write me, and I promise to disclose how near-accurate you are. If you're not at all in the vicinity, yet I like the way you think, you get the Creamsicle, and I get to keep worrying. Yes, I'm not serious.


You may justifiably argue that my 5-item list does constitute resolutions for the coming year. Still, January 1st was a Monday--Monday, another artificial separation in a continuum of days. I've had enough separation, thank you. So, I abolish the term "year." It's based on science, folks. Just ask the famous doctor. He said to go for it but give him credit. Ha. I can have my own non-year, and I don't need his imprimatur to do it.


I wish you good, whole, fulfilling Days Ahead with no expiration date. Please leave the door open as you leave.

 

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