Forgive me, please.

I’m not supposed to be annoyed. Over Donald Trump. Or so my sister Babs and good friend Rosie tell me. They say take life in buoyant stride. And focus on the pleasantries. The stuff going right in the world. Yes, I’m instructed to ignore their hero, Trump. Well and good for them to give me such astute advice. Nevertheless, I choose to be annoyed. Even on the verge of anger.  It’s hard for usually easy-going me to tolerate the existence of a jerk of the magnitude of Trump.  Sorry about that. I try to love my enemies.  With some success. But I can’t find an ounce of love in my heart. For a jerk. Yes, a rose is a rose is a rose. Unfortunately, it’s also true that a jerk is a jerk is a jerk. Worse than a mere enemy. Forgive me, please, for being a jerk, too. A judgmental jerk. --Jim Broede

No doubt about it.

I wonder. If creation had no beginning. That what we consider to be creation always was. And always will be. Thus, no need for a creator. Or a Big Bang theory. Or anything else. It is what it is. Billions of galaxies. And trillions of planets. In ever-expanding cosmos. Teeming with the life force. We humans tend to think that everything needs a beginning.  But maybe that’s not so. I'm keeping an open mind. Maybe that’s the essence of life. It may not have been here forever. On planet Earth. But it has been elsewhere in the infinite cosmos. Forever and ever. Spreading. Spreading. Spreading.  Without beginning. Life itself. Is the creator. Nobody created the creator. The creator and life are one and the same. I am life. And the nature of life. Is to always be. No past. No future. Because true and real life exists in an everlasting spiritual form. Outside of time. Time is a deception. There is no time. We have made it up. Time is a pretense of a fantastical imagination. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Yes. Yes. Life is crazy. No doubt about it. --Jim Broede

To bed. Without complaint.

I hardly ever complain. About feeling tired. Actually, I like the feeling. It’s a nice way to end the day.  A signal that it’s time to go to bed. And to have sweet dreams. Turns out. That I sleep best.  When I’m tired. No sense in forcing sleep if I’m wide awake. And full of vim and vigor.  Might as well stay up. And muse about my uncomplaining[ life. Often, I’m at my most productive state of being at 2 or 3 in the morning. If I start to fall asleep at my computer or while reading a book – well, it’s time to hit the sack. Without complaint.  My reward. For having savored a full day.  --Jim Broede

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A fact of life.

The Chicago Cubs will never have another baseball season like the last one. When they won the World Series. For the first time in 108 years. Oh, sooner or later, they will win again.  But it won’t be the same as 2016. When the Cubs were on a mission. Fully prepared. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. To maintain an incredible superior pace. For an entire baseball season. To pull off a miracle. By being focused. On the goal. All the way.  It was almost as if they walked on water.  They truly believed that they could do it. The Cubs are believers no more.  Not necessarily because they don’t want to believe.  But rather. Because we humans are designed to stay high and focused and creative for only so long. It’s too exhaustive. We need breaks. We need to coast. To catch our breaths. To rejuvenate. We can’t always be at our best. That’s a fact of life. --Jim Broede

Eluding the rules of time.

I know. I know. I live in the now. But I often dream. In the past. And in the future. As if I elude the rules of time. I am free. To go back and forth. In my (spiritual) dreams. It feels like a trip. Both inside and outside of time. I can plunk myself. Forward. And backward. Don’t quite know. If I should be apprehensive. Or optimistic. Of the future.  I’m most buoyant. If I sense seizing control. Of my future. Even if I can’t do anything about the outside world’s future. Yes. Yes. I can live in my own domain. Creating a separate world. Albeit in my dreams. --Jim Broede

The bugaboo.

That’s the bugaboo of life. Clutter. Confusion. Lack of clarity. If only we could focus. On the important and meaningful stuff.  The search for meaning.  I wonder. If it’s up to us. As individuals. To find our own meaning. Rather than a collective meaning.  --Jim Broede

The making of a Super Power.

I like the notion. Of a political alliance. Between the U.S. and Russia. To solve the world’s worst problems. Together, the once Cold War enemies, can perform a miracle. The defeat of common enemies. Namely, ISIS and terrorism. With the creation of a new world order. In which the alliance between the U. S. and Russia rules supreme. I suspect. That’s what Donald Trump and his cronies have in mind. But they know. That they can’t get away with such a plan. Unless it’s done secretly. In a way that skirts the inevitable opposition from far right political conservatives. Still brainwashed by the inbred mentality of a Cold War. In which the Soviet Union (aka Russia) is cast as the enemy. Of course, I long ago abandoned the perception that Russia was the Evil Empire. Instead, Russia is our potential best friend. Our principal ally. In efforts to bring about a new world order. Yes, I support a fresh thinking alliance. That makes the combined Russia and America. The world’s Super Power. --Jim Broede

Gobbledygook.

I had a dream last night. That I was taking a written test. In a classroom. At a prestigious university. And the questions were posed. In technical jargon. Beyond my comprehension. Of course, that was frustrating. But I proceeded anyway.  Answering every question. In equally baffling terms. Thinking. Maybe that’s what I was supposed to do. That I was being tested. About the lack of meaning in life. Therefore, I answered every question. In my natural native language. Gobbledygook.  –Jim Broede

My sister, the monarchist.

My sister is a monarchist. She yearns for the 17^th Century. Before the French Revolution. When kings reigned. And ruled by divine right. Little wonder. That my sister voted for Donald Trump. She worships and adores him. As if he were all-knowing. She puts her faith in Trump. Almost as if he were god himself. He can do no wrong. I tell my sister she’s a little bit crazy. I really mean completely bonkers. But I don’t say that. Because I’m only a mere novice amateur psychiatrist. Unfit to make such a harsh professional judgment.  Anyway, my sister is my sister. I try to accept her. Because that’s the right thing to do. She’s family. By the way, she thinks I’m the crazy one. --Jim Broede

The forgiving sort, am I.

Oh me, oh my. I have been felled. By Mother Nature. By poison ivy. Itchy rashes. On my legs and arms. What am I to do? Suffer, I suppose. Treat it.  And wish for better days. I should have been on the lookout. While doing springtime gardening. Instead, I was careless. Working in my shorts. Kneeling. On the ground. As if in worship of Mother Nature. I keep telling myself. It's worth the price. Of the feel of dirt. On my bare hands. Thinking I was having a love affair. With Mother Nature. But it was reckless love. I should have known better. I’m taking prednisone.  A steroid. Frequently used in the treatment of rashes. Ointments give me relief, too. Meanwhile, I'll go on my daily long, long walks. Observing the wonders of nature. From a safe distance. I know. I know. Mother Nature can be cruel.  But I’m still in love. I'm the forgiving sort. --Jim Broede

Waiting to be surprised.

I draw lines. Between right and wrong. From my perspective. Knowing full well that my right may be another’s wrong. We have different values. Different notions. I like it best. When we both can go our own ways. Without harming others. That’s what I want out of life. A live and let live attitude. As much as possible. Of course, not everything is possible. When it comes to human relations. But I don’t mind aiming for the impossible. Who knows? I’m waiting. To be surprised. --Jim Broede

In getting through life.

I risk being opinionated. I often let people know. Where I stand. On controversial political, economic and social issues. I’ll even give Blue Skies personal advice. In dealing with life. My intent. In speaking out. On most anything. Is to stir thought. In constructive and positive ways. To cause no harm. That doesn’t always happen. I can be misconstrued. That’s the risk of being opinionated. Of course, one could play it safe.  And not risk speaking one’s mind. But I would hate going through life that way. I’d rather take the chance. Of making a fool of myself. Of not only appearing to be stupid. But actually being stupid. I’ve been known to offend people. Sometimes when I don’t mean to. But such problems can be solved. With honest and heartfelt explanations. Other times, I don’t mind being a little bit nasty. And funny, too. I encourage my friends. And even strangers. To be themselves. And not to worry about offending the likes of me. I can take it. Because most of the time they are being honest. They are willing to take risks. In getting through life. --Jim Broede

Before it's too late.

I wonder. If we were all born to dance.  Some of us do. Some of us don’t. Why is it? That not everyone dances. It must be frustrating. If one was born to dance.  But can’t find the way. I’m one of those. Who can’t perform the dance. Physically. But I compensate.  By dancing spiritually. Maybe. Some day. I’ll dance both ways.  Before it’s too late. --Jim Broede

Living for the surprises.

It would be a curse. To know it all. To know everything. Even the creator himself. Would be cursed. If he knew it all. If he had all the answers. Occasionally, I meet someone. Who acts as if  he/she knows it all. I’ve tried to pretend to know it all. Playing the role. To see how it feels. And it scares the willies out of me. It’s much nicer. To remain ignorant. And not know what’s coming next. I live for the surprises. --Jim Broede

Ignorance ain't always bliss.

I dispute claims that ignorance is bliss. Yes, I would rather know more. Than less. But I am intrigued by the saying that ‘Ignorance is bliss.’  Here’s the origin of that proverb. Similar to  ‘What you don't know cannot hurt you.' It figures in a passage from ‘On a Distant Prospect of Eton College,’ by the 18th-century English poet Thomas Gray: ‘Where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.’ --Jim Broede

Laughing all the way.

I can choose. To pay heed. To anything my mind and heart desires. On any given day. It’s another way of saying. I have the option. To set the tone. The mood.  Fortunately, even in troubled times, I see the comedic side of life. Yes, I choose to be entertained. By the odd twists of life. I have faith. That all will end well. Nothing wrong. With laughing all the way. --Jim Broede

Give me another world.

Pardon me. If I can’t keep up with the goings-on. In an unpredictable and zany world. I might as well not even try. Many. Many before me. Have proclaimed, ‘Stop the world. I want to get off.’  But I’m a courageous man. I’ll stay aboard. To satisfy my curiosity. To see. How preposterous life can get. With Donald Trump as our president. Every morning. And every night. Before I go to bed. I try to grasp the significance of it all. And I can’t. Because the world has passed me by. Some day, I suppose. I’ll jump off. From a fast-moving train. And hope that I land safely. Maybe in another world. More suitable. For me. --Jim Broede

Better to know more.

What’s all the fuss? About politicians or anyone releasing classified information? After all, it’s only information. That someone is trying to keep secret. I say, let it all hang out. Let’s have no secrets. Let’s go naked. No reason to hide anything. Let’s be honest with each other. For a change. Whether as individuals. Or countries.  Or businesses. Every time I turn on the TV, someone is being blamed for being reckless with government secrets. Donald Trump. Hillary Clinton. From both sides of the political aisle. Let’s not make a big deal of it. Better to know more. Than less.  --Jim Broede

Setting an example.

I know. I know. I shouldn’t wish bad on anyone. Including Donald Trump. Therefore, I apologize. But with a lack of sincerity. I have to be honest about it. I’ve noticed that the opposition to Trump is increasing. Significantly.  That’s good for my morale and our society and our country. But bad for Trump. And his unbridled ego. Yes, there’s some bad and some good. In just about anything and everything. For a liberal like me, I catch bad vibes when tuned in to Fox News. And good vibes when switching to MS NBC. At least I try to listen to both sides. Sometimes with respect. Especially if it’s my diehard conservative friend Andy. But I have very little, if any,  respect for Trump and his cronies. I can’t help it. That’s the way I am. Of course, Trump probably deserves better from me. But hey, I can’t do it. And I can’t claim to be truly sorry. That would make me a liar. And I try to avoid lying. With a passion.  Setting an example. For Trump. --Jim Broede

Getting to the truth.

I like to be personal. Even with strangers. Maybe too personal. To suit some. But I delight. In getting to know people personally. From the start.  I often bypass the small talk. I learned this approach. As a journalist. Interviewing people I had never met before.  I was there. For a purpose. To write a story. To collect facts. And tidbits, too. That may add interest. To the tale. At the same time. I volunteered my own personal stuff. As a means of creating a dialogue. A back and forth. That tended to put both of us at ease. A two-way street of communicating. So that we both got to know each other. Personally. No. No. It wasn’t a cleverly calculated approach to the interview. Instead, it came naturally. Connecting. Instinctively. Nakedly. Yes, let’s get to the crux of the matter. To the personal stuff. And not least, to the truth. Fairly and accurately.   --Jim Broede

Never knowing it all.

I love to meet total strangers. Because I know so little about them. I come into the encounter.  With few, if any, preconceived ideas. About who and what they are. It’s as if we’re starting from scratch. With a clean slate. I form a first impression. Hopefully, with mostly an open and objective mind. I’m there to listen. To inquire. To satisfy my curiosity. I don’t want us to remain total strangers. I’ve learned that first impressions often miss the target.  It takes time. To really get to know anyone. Even my best friends. Even after many years, I keep learning new stuff. That tells me something. There’s always something new to learn. Even about my true love, Cristina. Always. Always. Something new. And profound. I am even learning something new about myself. After 81 years of learning. I’ll never know it all.--Jim Broede