skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I’m trying to figure it all out. The significance of life.
As if I’m the equivalent of the mythical Adam. The only difference. I’ve been
plunked down. On Planet Earth. With billions of others. Like Adam, it’s my first
time of being. I’m in a quite different environment. Adam arrived in Paradise.
There’s a possibility that I’ve made my debut in Hell. Guess it’s up to me to
decide. And to make the most of it. First off. Makes me wonder if I’m related
to Adam. Though that’s unlikely. If he’s mythical. But I’m assuming I’m for
real. No myth stuff for me. I can pinch myself. And feel it. Of course, in time, I may become a myth, too. --Jim Broede
When musing. I like to give free rein. To my imagination. To
explore. Whatever comes to mind. Of course, I try to muse in reasonably appropriate
ways. By considering my audience. After all, there’s such a thing as human
decency. Being polite. And courteous. The older I get, the more I attempt to
accommodate and understand others. Especially those living outside my orbit. Yes.
Yes. I’ve learned to be intrigued. By the wonders of life. Particularly, human
life. Why people think, the way they think. Why they do what they do. I’m able
to probe my own depths. From within my being. But it’s more difficult getting inside
others. Knowing that few of us go naked
into the world. Maybe, what I’m saying. Is that it’s often difficult. Facing up
to the truth. Though I’m personally committed. To giving it an imaginative effort. --Jim
Maybe
the best way to live life. Is to assume that there’s no ending. That one lives
forever. So that one has all the time in the world. Therefore, there’s no
reason to rush through life. No hurry. To get things done. Play it cool. I
suspect. That’s the relaxed way to get through life. No reason to worry. About
running out of time. Yes, I know. Most likely, there’s no forever. But there’s
no harm in pretending. By believing in fairy tales that end with living happily ever after.
--Jim Broede
Not
sure. That I’ve flowed properly into modern times. Could be. That I’m not a model
of a very modern man. Could be. That I’m still living more in the past than the
present. Seldom use a cell phone. And so many other nifty gadgets. Of course, I rely on my computer. Writing emails.
And a blog. Pretending. That I have a foot in the modern age. I use the Internet.
I’m on Skype. Daily. Connected to my Italian amore. Yes, I do what’s
essential. To cultivate and advance my life. As a romantic idealist, a
spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer, a writer.
Doesn’t really matter whether I’m living in the 17th or the 21st century. I always
find ways to get by. Fortunately, I
still have the tools of a bygone era. Pens and pencils. Allowing me to write in
the old-fashioned way. By scribbling my thoughts Anywhere. Any place. Think
about it. When I was in the sixth grade.
I was an elite. The best in my class. With an A-plus in penmanship. Now my
teacher. Would be aghast. Critical of my sloppy penmanship. Yes, I’m no longer a
kid. Who took penmanship seriously. Not sure. If that’s good or bad. Give me time
to think. About whether I want to be a thoroughly modern man. --Jim Broede
I love getting up at 3 or 4 in the morning. Knowing that I
have no place to go. But back to bed. Full of thought. Yes, I am free. To muse
whatever I want. About life or anything. And best of all. Drifting pleasantly.
Back to sleep. --Jim Broede
I’m beginning to wonder. If we are living in an era. Of too
much information. From which we are challenged to separate truth from fiction.
An almost impossible task. Because the world is full of millions and billions
of ignoramuses. I hate to say it. Many
of us are being manipulated. Duped. Into believing the lies. We end up lying to
each other. But even worse, to ourselves. That may include me. Once upon a
time. I thought of myself as smart, astute, intelligent, aware, well-informed. But now I have descended. Into the ranks of
the hopelessly confused. Overwhelmed. No
longer knowing. With certainty. Right from wrong. Indeed, it has become Hell on
Earth, so to speak. I wake up. Before daybreak. Scared. As if I’m living in a
nightmare. Wishing. Wishing. That there were no mass media. For a time when we were protected from too
much information. --Jim Broede
Maybe
one should approach life as an endless series of new
beginnings. Yes. That’s my thought. While pondering, at the ripe age of
82, that
I’m much closer to the end of earthly life than to the beginning. But
that ain’t necessarily
so. As long as I’m in constant pursuit of new beginnings. Take the
ever-changing nature
of life. My life, in particular. I refuse to allow life to become static
and
rigid. Realizing that I’m not the same me of 10 or 20 or 30 years ago.
In fact,
I’m not the same guy that I was yesterday. I’m not stuck in a rut. I'm
evolving. Though that
may be open to dispute. I do pretty much the same things. Follow the
same
routine. Daily. Except when it comes to thinking. About life. I’m always
looking for new twists. Or something never noticed before. Stuff that I
overlooked. I muse and brood and reflect. In search of an elusive or
totally new
thought. I don’t want life to be the
same old, same old, same old. Give each of my days a new and awesome beginning, please.
--Jim Broede
