With reverence.

I muse. About life and death. And virtually everything in between.  Whatever motivates me. And often. I muse. In my blog.  Appropriately called Broede's Broodings. And I dare say. That I pretty much abide by the broad dictionary definition of musing. Occasionally, I’m taken to task. For musing out of bounds. But hey. Let’s concede that musing is musing is musing. I first came to muse. When dear Jeanne was doing battle with Alzheimer’s. Glad I did. Musing helped me through those difficult times.  Allowed me to say. What was on my troubled mind. Thank heavens. The musing rules are flexible. Doing whatever works. For me. I sense that’s what the rest of you do. Whatever works. For you. Yes. Different strokes. For different folks. Most of us have learned tolerance. In our ramblings. We accept the adage. To each his own. And we try to set examples. For each other. We sometimes stray. A little off course. But that’s all right.  We operate. With good intent. Giving  others the benefit of doubt. Giving comfort, too. Having truly learned. The art of musing. You know, it’s a fine art, don’t you? Let’s treat it as such. With reverence. --Jim Broede