I've seen life's frivolousness, the extreme fickleness of fate. A randomness haunting life. This uncertainty drives many to fear. Me? Connection: my drive is to connect, deeply, richly. Not simply awareness of Facebook updates (or Facebook's kin). Rather to comment, engage, share: whether that's humor, insight or compassion. An actual presence, of which we both are aware. Friends and family: this matters most. If, at the end of our life, no one cares, or worse, our death generates a feeling of relief, a release from the miseries we've inflicted, has our life any value?
Driving along in Kirkland , home of the modern yuppie, I’m passed by a new Mercedes. Lovely, silver, shiny, new, bling-bling; a part of me loaded with insecurity twinges while I purr along in my Toyota. Why? How come this is a metric of my self-esteem? Am I being unfair to myself, being upset by this train of thought and it’s influence? Consider, please, how much this viewpoint is drilled into us. Look at how often this imagery gets pushed into our faces, and how long that’s been going on. It shouldn’t surprise me, really, that I sometimes feel this way. Though my conscious values oppose this, the lingering thread of this programming has threads into the depths psyche.
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