...the art of pleasant thought.

I sometimes think about what was it I first noticed about my surroundings here on Earth. Things that left an impression. I can remember being in a baby buggy. And passing under an elevated train track. Hearing the roar of the train. It must have been in Chicago. And I can remember my dad holding me around the ankles and dangling me upsidedown. To have fun. But I think I was frightened. And I think I can remember being in a cable car. High above the ground. And feeling uneasy about it. And I can remember being at a funeral. And thinking that the 'dead' person was a sobbing lady seated on a bench. And I can remember a movie in which there were barrels of oil set afire in a sea. And I remember going into an operating room to have my tonsils removed and someone pricking my ear to get a sample of blood and someone putting a mask over my face and the smell of ether as I screamed and cried. Maybe in my earliest years I remember more unpleasant things than pleasant things. I wonder if that got me off to a bad start. But nowadays when I reflect on it, it helps me understand my fears. And maybe that makes me a better being. Or at least a more thoughtful one. Maybe as I get older, I'm more focused on love. Yes, I've learned the art of pleasant thought. --Jim Broede