The key to a wonderful life.

I recommend becoming one's own psychotherapist. By becoming honest with one's self. Give it a try. Tell one's self everything. Even the brutal truth. Then deal with it. Perhaps with the help of friends. And a professional, if needed. I'm of a mindset that all issues can be resolved. Especially if one is in love. With life. That's the key. Falling in love. With life. --Jim Broede

My kind of people.

I suspect that many people are reluctant to share their inner thoughts.  Not me. That’s what written musings are all about. To be shared. In many instances. Not merely with one’s self. But with friends and acquaintances. And strangers, too. It’s a way of getting to know one’s self. And others, too.  It’s a way to connect. True friends. Learn to open up to each other. Oh, all right to be reclusive, too. If that makes one feel comfortable.  On the other hand, sharing one’s self has benefits. It helps to draw out my friends. Makes them more open. More truthful. Yes,  maybe even more daring. I learn significant stuff about just-met strangers. In the first 10 minutes. Because I’m curious.  I want others to be curious, too. Often, it’s a sign that they are in love. With life. My kind of people. --Jim Broede

A scary thought.

Lying has become fashionable. Acceptable. In the news business. And in politics.  Because lies are more entertaining than the truth. Lies sell.  Easier than real facts. Than the truth.  Some business and political leaders are out to sell us a bill of goods. To increase ratings. To get more readers and viewers. And they know how. Because more and more people want to be entertained. Rather than informed. That’s why Donald Trump has emerged.  A shrewd entertainer. A showman. A potential president of the United States of America.  Because more than anything. He’s a bold, straight-faced liar. He tells entertaining lies.  Acceptable to millions of voters. Who knows? Maybe even a majority. He could win the election. Of course, he’s still a long-shot. But he’s getting closer and closer. As election day nears.  Because he’s such a brash fibber. Who knows how to manipulate and entertain an audience. To get away with outlandish lie telling. Maybe all the way to the White House. Yes, it’s a scary thought. For Halloween. And beyond.  --Jim Broede

My biggest concern.

I can live with it. If the Chicago Cubs lose the World Series. But I can’t live with it. If Donald Trump wins the election.  Goes to show that I know what’s important in life. I have priorities. I’m more concerned about the future of our nation. Than I am about the fate of my favorite baseball team. --Jim Broede

Musing my way through life.

Life is attitude. Attitude. Attitude.  And it starts with my imagination. By imagining that I am living the good life.  As if I’m living a novel. With a story plot. Over which I have imaginative control. I’m allowed to interpret (write) the meanings of events that happen to me, and around me. That’s what I’m doing now. Musing my way through life. --Jim Broede

Wondering. If I am truly alive.

Knowing that I am. In the here and now. That’s the significant part of life. Of course, I could have always been me. But didn’t know it.  One must be conscious. To be truly alive.  I have doubts. That I was alive. In the moment I was born. When I squeezed out of the womb. It wasn’t until later that I became alive. With my first conscious thought. And even then, I still had to figure out the nature of consciousness. I’m still in the process.  Makes me wonder. If I am truly alive. --Jim Broede

The polite way of putting it.

Name me a politician without character flaws. I dare say. You can’t do it. They all fall short. One way or another.  But some are a little more honest than others. Maybe that’s the nature of life. It’s difficult. Being truthful. Not only to others. But to ourselves.  Maybe we lie. Out of force of habit. So that the world seems more grand and glorious. Than it really is. When it comes to politics. To a presidential election.  My choice. Always boils down to who’s the more decent human being.  It’s an easy choice. This time around. The difference is between night and day. Hillary Clinton makes me think. That the sun is shining. Donald Trump brings me the awful darkness of an endless and gloomy night. Yes, that’s the polite way of putting it. --Jim Broede

The truth shall set us free.

I don’t give a damn about Hillary Clinton’s emails. Whether they are classified or not.  That’s her business. Her way of communicating.  I don’t care what server she uses. If she wants to use 10 servers, so be it. Let Hillary say whatever she wants. In her emails. Privately. Or publicly. It’s her choice.  No need for furor or uproar.  Even if she jeopardizes so-called national security. Anyway, I see no need to keep secrets. National security or otherwise.  Let all of our nation’s dirty secrets hang out.  No big deal if Hillary’s emails are hacked. I’m for everyone going naked in this terribly dishonest world. Whether one likes it or not.  Yes, the truth shall set us free. --Jim Broede

Time to save our political souls.

Too bad. That politics bring out the worst in people. Anything goes. Lying. Cheating. Nastiness. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way. Some politicians are nice and decent human beings.  Treating each other with respect and dignity. But they are the exceptions. Then there’s the worse of the worst. Donald J. Trump. Makes me wonder. How we Americans can let this happen. A major political party. Actually gives us Trump. As its nominee for president.  And hey, it’s not impossible that he could be elected. Yes, that’s the sorry state of affairs. Right here in America.  Polling shows that Trump is likely to lose. But it’s too close for comfort. Please. Please. My fellow Americans. It’s time to save our political souls. --Jim Broede

Being human. Isn't enough.

I need more than a glimpse of life. That’s why I must find a way. To live outside of time. That is the only way to grasp it all. From above. Beyond the physical realm.  One must shed the physical life. And transcend/ascend to another dimension. That compels me to believe in spiritual existence. That is to become my essence. Being human. Isn’t enough. I can do better. --Jim Broede

All or nothing.

Life is senseless. Unless I have forever. To get it right.  It takes  more than time. To correct all my wrongs. My mistakes. My errors.  Oh, I may fool myself. Into thinking that I have it right.  But it’s all deception. A trick.  If all I’m given is a mere glimpse of life. How can I tell right from wrong?  Little wonder. That I want life on my terms. All or nothing. --Jim Broede

For the better. Not the worse.

I have a good and decent and intelligent friend. Who plans on voting for Donald Trump.  And I don’t fully understand why. She tells me that Trump will shake things up. Of course, I’m for political shakeups, too. But not for a shake-up merely for the sake of a shake-up. I want a planned and coherent shake-up. Give me specifics. Something clearly for the better. Not for the worse. --Jim Broede

The art of living with one's self.

Accommodation and compromise. Is that too much to expect from our politicians? Finding ways to get along with each other. Listening. Listening. In a respectful manner. Love. Love. Instead of hate. That's what I want. New and decent rules. In the political realm. The same rules that I live by. When I retreat. Into my cocoon. Where  I have learned. The fine art of living with one's self.  Knowing that I cannot control the behavior of others. -- Jim Broede

The innumerable opportunities.

The important thing. I have a feeling. That I'm on the right track. Because life is good. Despite the pitfalls. I'm willing to accept the imperfections. Because they are offset. Many times over. By the perfections. By the innumerable opportunities to fall in love.  With someone. With something. Every day. --Jim Broede

Living to see the impossible.

I manage my life in peculiar ways. By picking and choosing the important stuff.   Sort of willy-nilly. For instance. This week I’ll focus attention on baseball. On the Chicago Cubs. Savoring the undeniable fact that the Cubs are playing in the World Series. For the first time since 1945. When I was 10. I vaguely recall listening to the World Series then.  On the radio. Before television reached our homes.  Now here I am. Seventy-one years later. Celebrating the return of the Cubs. To World Series prominence. Maybe even winning it all. For the first time since 1908. Two years before my father was born. Incredible. That I have lived long enough. To see the impossible. --Jim Broede

Far beyond the human imagination.

I’m overwhelmed. By the enormity of creation. By the size of the cosmos.  I read. In the New York Times last week. That there are about 10 times as many galaxies as previously thought. The new number is two trillion galaxies.  Put that in perspective. Our planet Earth. On the outer edge of one of these galaxies affectionately dubbed the Milky Way.  Contains up to 400 billion stars.  Astrophysicists tell us it would take at least 50,000 years to cross the Milky Way. Traveling at the speed of light. Some 186,000 miles per second. Think about it. The fantastic number. Two trillion galaxies. The biggest of which have an estimated 100 trillion stars. Indeed, that stirs my imagination. Into believing anything is possible. Even forms of life. Far beyond the human imagination.   -Jim Broede

An idyllic dream lasting forever.

I wonder. If the highest form of life exists outside of time. Far above physical creation. Where spirits/souls reside. Until one chooses. To reenter time  Again and again and again. An idyllic dream lasting forever. --Jim Broede

Let's do away with secrets.

I don’t give a damn. If Hillary Clinton leaked ‘top secret’ stuff in her emails. I’m opposed to secrets. Of any kind. Let it all hang out. Let’s promote openness. Hillary’s political opponents accuse her of breaching security. Of letting our enemies know too much. Hell, there’s no such thing as knowing too much. About each other. I’m for telling the truth. Always.  The more I learn. The more I understand. That there should be no secrets. --Jim Broede

I don't need everything.

Is there anything for which I would willingly surrender my life? Believe me. I have lots of wishes. But to make them happen --  well, don’t ask me to sacrifice myself. My life is more precious than mostly absurd and trivial wishes. For instance, I fervently wish for the Chicago Cubs to win the World Series this year. And for Donald Trump to overwhelmingly lose the presidential election.  If an all-powerful wish-granter came to me and announced, ‘Your wishes will come true. But only if you are willing to pay a price. Your life.’  I would reply, ‘Forget it.’ Better to continue living for a few more years.  Coping with life’s many disappointments. After all, there’s so much good stuff mixed in. I don’t need everything. --Jim Broede

If women ran the show.

I’m ready. For a woman to become our next president. Hillary has got my vote. Of course, that comes easy. Considering the alternative. I trust female politicians far more than males. Women are more kindly. More fair. More decent.  Yes. Yes. Yes. When it comes to doing the right thing. In almost everything. In all walks of life. I’ll put my faith and trust in the woman 90 percent of the time. This world would be in better shape. If women ran the show. --Jim Broede

In a rapt and keen manner.

It’s so very important. To maintain a rapt and keen interest in life. Danger lurks. When one becomes bored.  And I see it happening. All around me. Bored people. Robots. Going through the motions. But that’s not me. I am in love. With life. That’s why I want to become total spirit some day. So that I can go on  and on and on. In a rapt and keen manner. --Jim Broede

We are all in this together.

I’m my own best psychotherapist. That’s how I get through life. If I feel anxiety or any kind of mental disorder, I go to the best psychotherapist. Yes, namely me. I’m the best. Because I’ve learned to delve into me. Into my inner sanctum. To deal with my spirit. With my soul. With the core of my being.  Fixing the problem. That’s how I’ve learned to deal with grief, for instance. I identify the problem. Rather than ignoring it. I even did that as a youngster. Through my version of self-analysis. Most times, I’ve done that effectively. Devising solutions. Nipping psychological problems in the bud. Sometimes, with the help of trusted friends. Seldom did I have to turn to a professional psychotherapist. After all, I’m the best. Because I know me. Better than anyone. Anyway, I imagine that’s how it was done. In the past. When there were no professional psychotherapists. One had to rely on one’s self. To find the way out of doldrums. Out of the labyrinth. There were no drugs. To treat anxiety and depression. We had to become our own psychotherapists. To cope. On our own. With the mental problems associated with life. This was long before such theories as post traumatic syndrome. We are fortunate now. To live in an age. When we can better understand the intricacies of the human mind. And what it is that causes anxiety and depression. Perhaps a single event. Or a chemical imbalance. That turns the mind awry. I understand that. Because I am my own psychotherapist. I give thought. To my mental problems. Virtually every day. That’s my way. To get through life. As a functioning and thriving human being. Yes, and sometimes with the help of others. Seems to me, that we are all in this together.--Jim Broede

The war-mongers.

No accommodation. No compromise. That’s a problem. Especially in the realm of American politics. I’m for give and take. In order to resolve our differences.  Instead, we treat each other badly. As the enemy. Politicians have gone to war. With each other. So sad. So sad. So sad. --Jim Broede

No boredom for me.

Seldom am I bored. Because that would be a sacrilege. The mere thought of being alive. And conscious. That’s exciting enough. To keep my interest.  Sometimes, it’s hard to believe. That I have been blessed with life. I keep asking myself, ‘Why am I here?’ There has to be a reason. Not sure that I know. But I keep searching for an answer. Could be. That’s my primary mission in life.  To stay occupied. And to savor whatever it is that I am doing. Little wonder. That I keep falling in love. With life.  Maybe that’s what I am supposed to be. A lover. --Jim Broede

Because I am spirit.

Living in one’s 80s is different. Than living in one’s 40s, 50s and 60s. There’s a sense that one’s future is limited. That statistically, one is unlikely to see one’s 90s. In less than 10 years, I’ll be gone. No longer on the face of Mother Earth. Of course, I still feel reasonably fine. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. All it is. I’m merely slowing down. Having to do things more methodically. More thoughtfully.  More ponderously. I say, don’t get too far ahead of myself. Live for the day. Don’t worry. Don’t fret. What will be, will be. Savor the moment. Exactly what I am doing now. On my journey through life. I am imagining a scenario. In which there’s no end. Only new beginnings. Forever and ever. Because I am spirit.  --Jim Broede

When life becomes personal.

We all have vices. Of one kind or another. As a writer, maybe my biggest vice. Is that of writing about friends and acquaintances and strangers. I sort of rob them of their privacy.  Which could be construed as rude. Though I try not to look at it that way. Because I earned a living. As a newspaper reporter.  I delved into the lives of people that I wrote about. Some willingly. But other times against their wishes. I wrote about people. In positive and negative ways. It was called objectivity. But I always knew that pure objectivity is impossible. Life is far more subjective than objective. I learned. That in interviewing people. They tended to open up. Far more often. When I opened up, too. We shared our personal lives. That’s the nature of real life. It’s best. When life becomes personal. --Jim Broede

By putting my mind to it.

I’m rude.  Without knowing it. Until I stop to think.  Happens almost every day. For instance, I barged in on a neighbor. Last night. Without any forewarning. Because I wanted to report good news. I interrupted their privacy. Of course, that’s being rude. I should have apologized. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t think about it. Until later. I may not be as rude as Donald Trump. Nevertheless, I acknowledge being rude. Far too often. I plead ignorance. But that’s not a valid excuse. I could learn to be nicer and more courteous. By putting my mind to it. --Jim Broede

How to become a positive thinker.

I wonder. If some of us think too much. Occupying our minds. With dreadful thoughts. About stuff. Over which we have virtually no control. We become worry warts. Therefore, I’m committed. Daily. To listing things I don’t have to worry about. It’s turning me into a positive thinker. --Jim Broede

A sense of celebration.

The worst kind of sadness is grieving sadness. Therefore, I try to get over it quickly. Because it’s important to get on with life. In a non-grieving manner. The death of a loved one, for instance, usually triggers grief. But I keep reminding myself that the loved one is still alive. In spirit. And that brings on a pulse of joy.  A sense of celebration.  --Jim Broede

The strange twists of life.

Yes, Donald Trump is a strange one. Too strange for me. I want no part of him. Because he’s mean and nasty. Represents what I abhor. It’s that simple. But then, I may represent what Trump abhors. Fancy that. We abhor each other. When we are supposed to be full of love. Even for our worst enemies.  Yes, another situation. That makes life hard to grasp.  Still, I’m going to give it a try. To figure things out. In meaningful ways. Can some of you help me?  I need insights. Into the strange twists of life. --Jim Broede

I will have it all.

My disappointments in life have been relatively small. Even trivial in the grand scheme. For instance, the death of my first true love. Jeanne. From Alzheimer’s. That loss was outweighed. By the fact that I had Jeanne’s physical presence for almost 40 years. And she’s still with me. In loving spirit. Furthermore, I have a second true love. My Italian amore, Cristina. For eight years now. Yes. I’ve had a blessed life. With two true loves. And here I am. Still in the now. Savoring life. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. For 81 years, and counting.  Being what I want to be. A romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A writer. A lover. A dreamer. What more can I ask for? Well, for starters. Give me life as a spirit. In a non-physical realm. On the same level as the creator himself. No. No. I don’t want to be a god. But I want everlasting, conscious life. So that I can communicate. And move about anywhere in the infinite cosmos. So that I can be reunited. With my loved and meaningful ones. Finally, I will no longer have reason to be disappointed. I will have it all. --Jim Broede

The creative craft of colossal lying.

Some of the weirdest people I know, tell me they will vote for Donald Trump. Why? Why? Why?  They don’t like Hillary Clinton. ‘Because she’s a liar. And too secretive.’ I ask ‘Isn’t Trump a bold-faced liar?’  Maybe it’s a judgment call. They apparently size up Trump as better than Clinton at the creative craft of colossal lying. --Jim Broede

Too much time lamenting.

Here’s the problem. I too often want to dictate the course of my life.  When really, I have to learn to adjust. And to accept fate. So very much of life is beyond my control. The events that happen around me. And in the world. Daily. I have to find ways to make the best of difficult situations. It would be nice if life flowed smoothly. And often enough, it does. But when it doesn’t, I spend too much time lamenting. --Jim Broede

Taking control of one's life.

Sometimes I forget. About the fantastic nature of life. Taking life too matter-of-factly.  For granted. Rather than capturing and savoring  the precious moments. That occur almost daily. Instead, I’m focused on the humdrum. The routine.  As if there was nothing special happening. When really, conscious life is special. An opportunity to feel blessed. To take control of one’s life. In meaningful ways. --Jim Broede

A fantastic life.

Fantastic. Fantastic. That’s what I have to say about life. It’s fantastic. Sure, there have been disappointments. Sadness. Regrets.  But overall, I’m compelled to give a fantastic rating to life. I’d not want to trade it for anything. Other than for something even more fantastic. And I have no idea what that might be. Therefore, I’ll settle for what I have. A fantastic life. --Jim Broede

The nature of dreams.

Amazing, isn’t it? I have today. Another day of life. The ability to have loving thoughts. To know that I am. That I exist. Even though it may be an imaginary world. A living dream. In some ways, maybe it would be better. If life were a dream. Because dreams can take any shape or form. --Jim Broede

Imaginary worlds. That seem so real.

Far, far more goes right than goes wrong in my blessed life. And for that I am grateful. Nicest of all. Is that I’ve survived long enough to qualify as an octogenarian  In reasonable good shape. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.  Of course, there’s no guarantee of a forever. For me, that is.  But at least I can dream. Of forever. As a spirit. Yes, my imagination. It’s a saving grace. I can create a future. An eternity.  Not only for myself. But for my loved ones, too. Imaginary worlds. That seem so real. --Jim Broede

Over and over and over.

One of these days. I’m going to be gone. And forgotten. As if I never existed. There’ll be no sign that I ever lived. That’s all right with me. Though I would just as soon live forever. So that I could keep remembering. That I’m still alive. And with it. There’s something nice. About being able to grasp and savor life. Yes, to be conscious of one’s existence. And to be able to fall in love. Over and over and over. --Jim Broede

My nightmare.

Trump-Pence signs. Such gawd-awful weeds. Sprouting in my neighborhood. Could it be? That neighbors and acquaintances. Maybe some friends. Have been lured. Onto a  wayward path. Makes me wonder. What it was like. In the 1930s. In Germany. When the Fuhrer came to power.  And I was about to enter the world. As a newborn.  Safe in America. Now here I am. In the year 2016. Living in Minnesota. With a sense of pending doom.  Fearful. Fearful. Fearful of the rise of another Fuhrer. Tell me. Tell me that I am overreacting. That I will soon awaken from my nightmare. --Jim Broede

I keep finding my way.

It’s up to me. To give meaning to life. Particularly, my life. Meaning that makes sense. To me. That makes me happy. That makes me want to live. Forever. Therefore, that’s what I do. So simple. That’s the way I stay out of depression. I constantly search for reasons to be in love. With life. Even if I have to look under a rock. But usually, all it takes is to simply dig deep. Inside me. That’s my saving grace.  Always. Always. There’s something that turns me on. Makes me a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer.  Yes, I keep finding my way. --Jim Broede

Really, that ain't bad.

I’m an avid, diehard Chicago Cubs fan. Liking nothing better than to have the Cubs win the World Series. This year. For the first time since 1908. Yet I have vowed not to watch a single Cubs game during the play-offs. Which begin Friday. Why will I abstain?  For good reason. I am too emotionally involved. As a Cubs fan. I’d become a nervous wreck. Begging. The baseball gods. To let the Cubs win. So that I could be happy and joyous. Instead, I have chosen to wait patiently. Until the games are safely over. To check the scores. And only then, get the details. To be savored. Only if the Cubs win.  I’ll not bother myself with the gory details. If the Cubs happen to lose. And then I will still find a way to be happy. By brainwashing myself. Into believing. With all my heart. That it really wasn’t a bad season. Because the Cubs won over 100 games during the regular season. Before the playoffs. Really, that ain’t bad. --Jim Broede

Supreme ruler of the insane asylum.

Maybe Donald Trump is choosing to be Donald Trump. If so, maybe I have to admire the guy. For creating a storybook life. Finding ways to accomplish fantastic goals. For being able to bamboozle all sorts of people. Merely for a lark.  For the fun of it. I suspect that’s all Trump wants out of life. Doing what no one else could do. Voicing harebrained ideas. That could get him elected president of the United States. I suspect that Trump doesn’t really want to be president. He wants to lose. He wants no part of the White House. Trump only wants to show the world. That he could come dangerously close to walking in the door. Without ever knowing what to do when he gets there. He would have arrived by accident. Proving that all things are possible. One can be mad, insane, crazy  And get away with becoming supreme ruler of the insane asylum. --Jim Broede

Better to be smart.

I love being wrong. So that I can apologize. And show the world, that being wrong isn’t all that bad. Also, it gives me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes. If I didn’t recognize my mistakes, I’d be stupid. Better to be smart. By admitting to one’s mistakes. --Jim Broede

To live happily ever after.

Whenever there’s  been trouble in the world, I’ve been able to withdraw. To safety. In my cocoon. Where I have the opportunity to create my own reality. In my relatively isolated environs. In other words, it won’t be the end of my world, if Donald Trump becomes president. Yes, it’s a dreadful thought. But I refuse to live in fear. Better to wear blinders. Forging ahead. Finding a way. To live happily ever after. No matter the circumstances. --Jim Broede

Into infinity.

The unexpected. I don’t know what’s around the corner. On my journey through life. Maybe the journey will end tomorrow. Or in 10 years.  I have no clue.  And that’s acceptable. I don’t have to know. Maybe that’s the best way to have it. I can live with the unpredictable life. Because that keeps open the many, many possibilities.  The options. Anything can happen. From moment to moment. I’m living a story that’s continually unfolding. Of course, I yearn for the story to never end.  I’m told by writing gurus that stories must have a beginning, a middle and an end.  Yes, I crave for a story that never ends. That goes on and on and on. Into infinity.  --Jim Broede