“Trouble, life is trouble,” Zorba the Greek.
These are stressful times, but I wonder if they are any more or less stressful than any other time in history? I suppose it would depend whom you asked the question.
I realize that my middle class stress is not abject poverty stress; it is not a young pregnant woman stress; it is not a father’s stress who cannot protect his family in a violent neighborhood. No. My stress centers around life choices and the desire to experience the marrow of life. This stress is a luxury in disguise.
I am blessed that as I write this the furnace warms the house to a comfortable temperature. I am blessed that there is food in the cupboards, refrigerator, and big freezer. I am blessed to put two feet on the floor and walk from my bed to the kitchen. I am blessed that I get to worry about producing at a job that pays me well and gives me the opportunity to make more. I am blessed to have my parents still alive and in good health. I am blessed to have a good marriage. I am blessed to have good friends. I imagine I could go on all day. Yes, my life is that good. . .
As I sit in the quiet of my dining room, darkness still pours in through the patio doors, I appreciate that I am sheltered from the wintry wind that sounds sinister. In the silence I am grateful for the great gift of time and solitude.
Nearby a bushel of apples from the orchard down the street are piled high. I will give some to my parents and sister. The apples were easily paid for and easily shared.
Food, love, shelter, clothing, and heat. Soon the sun will cast its first light on a frosty garden.
“What more can human beings want?” Rumi.
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