And yet we do it anyway...

As the sun ends its few days of rest and starts to ache its way back northward, as it has done now for eons, long before language, long before lungs, folk in this part of the world reflect, briefly, on what we think matters.

We make promises, as we have before, and as we will again, to change.

“Except for the point, the still point,

There would be no dance, and there is only the dance”
― T.S. Eliot

We know what matters, we know what make us and others happy, we know the stories and the songs and the food and the people that make us happy.

We know all this.

We know that choices we make, staying too long at a meeting that goes nowhere, giving tests that matter to no one, playing with our virtual pleasure machines that steal our living hours, are bad choices.

And yet I do them anyway....

So no resolutions this year, except one--to minimize the "yet we do it anyway" hours. I'd be better off sitting in silence, in the dark, alone with thoughts spiraling out of control than pretending that anything I do rationally with folks I do not know, and cannot love because I do not know them, matters.

“This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”
― T.S. Eliot

If the silence becomes too loud, I will seek the words of someone I know, and love, and care about, not another virtual voice.

I have never regretted a single moment outside....