It all comes naturally.

Long ago. I faced up to the fact. That I’m not good at some things. Such as mechanical skills. Can’t fix stuff that’s broken. Better to summon a plumber or an electrician or a mechanic. I’m not a handyman. Never will be.  Oh, I’ve made attempts. At being Mr. Fix-It. But to no avail. I was worse off. For even trying. Because it called attention. To my ineptitude. My inability to master the simple. I’m better off. Tackling complex matters. Such as philosophical discourse. Or writing poetry. Maybe that’s why I became a romantic idealist. A spiritual free thinker. A political liberal. A lover. A dreamer. It all comes naturally. --Jim Broede

A call for world government.

I could become a fan of world government. In an effort to serve the common good. Some issues/problems are so big and important and crucial that they require united action. Take the environmental threats posed by climate change, for instance. We have divided fronts now. Over what to do about it. Therefore, action is delayed. Maybe postponed. Until it's too late. That's where I'd have world government step in. To force the issue. Over parochial protests. For the sake of the planet. Yes, for the common good. If we allow selfish interests to continue to prevail -- we do a disservice to mankind.  Let's do what's best for the ever-burgeoning population. The eight billion inhabitants of Mother Earth. If that means resorting to world government, so be it. --Jim Broede

The definition of hell.

I criticize my friend Julie. For being reclusive. Hiding out. When she's in depression. And had too much to drink. But then, I'm reclusive, too. I love solitude. Makes me happy. At peace.  When I have no interruptions. And I'm able to turn inward. Yes, there's a time to be a recluse. For the purpose of soul-searching.  To retreat to a desert. Or a mountain top. Or to another planet. Another dimension. But Julie does it. To get away from herself. She abhors what she has become. And doesn't know how to get back on track again. She's wandering. Aimlessly.  Such a sad plight. Maybe this is the definition of hell. --Jim Broede

Time to define the common good.

Yes. Yes. I know. It’s difficult to come to agreement. Over what’s the common good. But let’s give it a try. By continually talking about the common good. And what it is. That should be at the core/focus of political discussion. Can most of us agree? That we should be in pursuit of the common good? Too often, I’m suggesting, that special interests wield the most political power. At the expense of the common good. I’d like it. If more politicians zeroed in on better ways to serve the common good. A good start. Let’s require. Each politician. To tell us his/her definition of the common good. --Jim Broede

Better to have lived.

There's a problem.  I have turbulence in my life, too. Because life doesn't flow in perfect harmony. So many disruptions. But still, there are tranquil and tender moments. To savor. I am able to catch my breath. And be thankful. That I am alive and conscious. And in control. If not always. For periods. That make it all worthwhile and fulfilling. Better to have lived than not to have lived. --Jim Broede

       

Let's give god a break.

Yes. More and more. I wonder if I should mind my own business. And steer clear of problem-plagued people. But then, we all have our share of problems. Coping with life. Some cope better than others. So, I would think. That it'd be the decent thing to do. To help those in big, big difficulty. Namely my friend Julie. The alcoholic. The depression-riddled. Those on the religious right. Say pray for Julie. But I suspect that god prefers to mind his own business. And wants Julie to find her own solutions. Maybe with the help. Of close friends. Or maybe even society as a whole. Yes, a society structured for the common good. So that it's unnecessary for god to step in. --Jim Broede

The craziest role of all.

Every night. When I go to bed. I must ask myself. Would I want to do a repeat performance? And do the same things again and again. Over and over. Would I find enough to savor? As if I were acting. In a stage play.  Imagine. A Shakespearean actor. Playing Hamlet. Every night. Might drive me crazy. But let's say, that I am compelled to play myself. Maybe that would be the craziest role of all. --Jim Broede