Undaunting belief.

I was born. To not know everything. Therefore, I make assumptions. And believe anything I want.  Without proof. Especially in spiritual matters.  Instinct prevails. Over intellectual reasoning.  My preference. A life of spiritual grandeur. In keeping. With the lifestyle of a romantic idealist. Like living in a novel.  Or a dream. But it’s real.  Because I’m a believer. Able. Able. Able to walk on water. That’s all it takes. Undaunting belief. –Jim Broede

She ain't a dumb dog.

Sasha. She’s a dog. A mixed breed. Belongs to my neighbor. I walk Sasha. Almost every day. For a mile or two. Sometimes up to six.  For a while, I also was walking Jack. An Irish setter. Until he was literally farmed out. He was an incessant  barker. And needed more open space. I volunteer. Taking other people’s dogs. For walks.  Might as well.  I walk 10 miles a day anyway. Enjoy the company of dogs. More than people. Don’t want the responsibility of owning a dog. Instead, I have two cats.  Loverboy and Chenuska.  Living with me.  Occasionally, I bring Sasha in  To meet and mix with my precious cats. They’re all curious. About each other. I observe. Animals interacting. Entertaining. Educational. Enlightening, too.  Yesterday, on our walk, Sasha encountered three hostile boxers. They formed an attack pack. Knocked her down. Quite a skirmish. Sasha managed to break loose. Scampered home. Like a race horse. A wise move.  I retrieved Sasha. Took her back. To the scene of the crime. The boxers had gone. Sasha wasn’t hesitant. A good sign. Wanted to make sure. That she wasn’t overly traumatized. Don’t know what it all means. Whether she’s a brave dog. Or merely a smart one. Knowing enough. To run away. When outnumbered 3-to-1. –Jim Broede

The real America.

A very, very rich man will almost always get his way. In the political arena. That’s how things are set up. To favor the filthy rich. The so-called oligarchs. Money is power. Money in America buys virtually anything. Even politicians’ souls. Almost anything can be bought. And that’s especially true in the American political realm. Elections are purchased. And not much people like me can do about it. Other than gripe. Knowing full well that our votes really don’t count. Never have. Never will. We’ll always be in the minority. Even when, in sheer numbers, we are an overwhelming majority.  The political system is rigged. To keep the rich even more powerfully rich. With an ever-widening gap between the haves and the have-nots. You and I can make persuasive moral arguments. That this is wrong. Doesn’t matter. The obscenely rich are firmly entrenched. Possessing the wherewithal to block the common good. Sadly, that’s the real America. --Jim Broede

A quest for enlightenment.

I’m constantly defining myself. Because I don’t want others to do it for me. That’s a danger. One listens to others. Too often. When one should be turning inward. For answers. For definition. Don’t get me wrong. I listen to others. To learn. What makes them tick. Helps me. Define them. I’m good at that. Far better than they are at defining me. They are more wrong than right. So very, very many. Don’t understand themselves. That’s essential. Before they can understand others. First and foremost, I’m a romantic idealist. Giving a romantic interpretation to life. My life. Maybe I’m wrong. In defining others. But I rarely fret.  About being wrong. Because making mistakes. Often leads to enlightenment. –Jim Broede

To find reason. For it all.

I have a way. Of looking at life. And it changes. From day to day. Depends. On circumstances. On mood. Maybe even on the creator’s grand design. Yes, a dictated thought. From above. Some days. I have no idea. Which way to twist and turn. Mere reflex action. And I find no true meaning. Until day’s end. When I analyze. And go on search. To find reason. For it all. –Jim Broede

A life full of complications.

Complications. An interesting term. Life. Full of complications. One must deal with complications. When my dear sweet Jeanne showed the first signs of Alzheimer’s. A complication. Learning a new way of life. A test for my love. To reach deep. Into heart and soul. Got the message. Life wasn’t meant to be always easy. The creator knew what he was doing. Right from the start. Complications. An essential part. In his grand design.  –Jim Broede

No hurry. Reaching journey's end.

Slowing down. Ain’t the worst thing in the world. I used to run 7-minute miles. I’d not even try that any more. Because I’m older. Slower. But pressed, I could walk all-day. Continuous 15-minute miles.  Aging. Means no longer being a youth. Senior citizen instead. Suddenly, the oldest guy in the room. No lamenting allowed. After all, I’ve lived. To 78, and counting. Helps. To having learned the fine art of slowness. To savor life.  Slowly. Making the goodness last. Longer. Longer. Longer. Dreaming of living forever. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.  No hurry. Reaching journey's end. –Jim Broede