I'm a loverboy, too.

I clean the house. And put everything in neat order. Makes me feel good. Relaxed. No more clutter. Clears my mind. I go for a walk. In the great outdoors. Breathing deeply.  Upon my return. Beloved cat Loverboy. Asks to be loved. Reminding me. That I’m a loverboy, too. --Jim Broede

My ritual: Dining by candlelight.

Candles. Candles. Candles. I have a huge collection of candles. I could live without electricity. For a long, long time. And still see my way through the night. With ample light. From candles. I often eat supper. By the light of a half dozen candles. Bright enough for me to read. Without straining my eyes. But more often than not, I play music.  Soothing classical music. Yes, candle light and music. They go together.  Makes the food taste better, too. Yes, I savor it all.  It’s a ritual. Dining by candlelight. An essential part of my incredibly good life. --Jim Broede

Rare events.

Some days. I find it better to be an observer. Rather than an active participant in life. I learn very much. By sitting on the sidelines. Watching. Watching. Listening. Listening. No need to give advice. I’m accused. Often. Of talking too much. It’s better. To be accused. Of being too quiet. But that rarely happens. --Jim Broede

Shared thoughts.

I have nothing to hide. If a friend asks me, ‘What’s on you mind?’ I’ll answer. Truthfully. To prove that I have nothing to hide. That can lead to engaging conversation. It’s the closest I come to going naked into the world. Maybe that makes me a psychotherapist’s dream.  Of course, I open up. Mainly with me. Therefore, most of my thoughts are private. Just the way they should be. But I write a blog, too. Daily.  I’ve made over 8,300 entries. In the past seven years or so.   Revealing much of my thought process. Thing is. I have so very, very many thoughts. I wouldn’t have time to share them all. Imagine. The rest of you.  Sharing a single personal thought. Each day. That would tell me a whole lot about you. I’d like to make that a requirement. --Jim Broede

I believe in fairy tales.

My friend Julie is living a life of illusion. As are so many others. Julie is in the same boat as politicians. Such as the Republican presidential aspirants. Donald Trump. Ted Cruz. Marco Rubio. I’m listening to everyone these days. And I can hardly believe. What I’m hearing. From Julie. All the way to men that might easily become our next president. And I swear. They’re all crazy. Maybe the world has gone complete bonkers. Is all this stuff real? Or am I imagining it all? Maybe I’m crazy, too. For thinking. That I can save Julie. Rescue her. From her life of illusion. As a manic depressive. As an alcoholic. By arranging an intervention. Yes. Yes. I’m under the grand illusion. That it’s possible for Julie to come out of her illusion. And live happily ever after. I believe in fairy tales. --Jim Broede

In life's many compelling scenarios.

One of the nicest things about life. It’s entertaining. Sure, there are dull moments.  But overall, life is a little like a stage play.  Lots of stuff going on. I spend much of my time. In the audience.  Watching plots and subplots. Laughing most of the time. Occasionally, crying. Can’t get through life without moments of sadness. But hey, when I feel like it. There I am. On stage. Playing a big role.  Taking charge.  Steering the drama. In the direction  I want it to go. In a happy-go-lucky way. I’ve thought. About becoming director of life’s stage play. But that’s too big of a responsibility. Instead, better to settle for being a mere actor. One of many players. Capable of playing big roles in life’s many compelling  (and entertaining) scenarios. --Jim Broede

Without explanation.

One might as well dream. And imagine the finer things of life. Not necessarily the perfect life. But what one wants life to be.  Makes me wonder. If that went through the creator’s  mind. Just before he decided to create. Was there forethought?  But then, why must there be a creator? Maybe creation is mere happenstance. Or maybe creation always existed. Forever and ever. Why must there be a beginning? Or for that matter, an end?  Because it’s logical, I suppose. It’s reasonable. To think that way. To give limited sense and meaning. To everything.  Yes, an explanation. But it’s also nice. To merely savor life. This moment of reflection. Without explanation. --Jim Broede