Four days until Christmas.
I sit in my home and look around.
In the corner is a beautiful Christmas tree. It’s perfect for our little abode. In my earlier years I was a purist.
A tree had to be located–preferably on a farm–chopped down by my axe, brought back to the house, set into a stand, usually crooked, with two or three match boxes under the legs to make it even.
Last year I went to the store and found one that hooked together, and when connected correctly, had all of its lights and branches perfectly formed to create a glowing mass of wonder.
I also used to think I had to have my nose in everyone’s business, so it was clear to them that I cared and also that my influence was obvious. Now I realize that getting all of my personal work done, doing my writing projects and remembering where I placed my favorite slippers is plenty of labor for me.
I do not need to construct other people’s lives to satisfy what I have deemed to be a respectable life plan.
I do admire those people who have a knack for putting things together, but I happen to be one of those individuals who’s an enthusiast about things that are already constructed, and arrive in my presence in totality–ready to be enjoyed.
(click the elephant to see what he’s reading!)