Daily

Daily: (adv) every day, day by day

 

He died on his way to buy a new suit.

She passed away in the beauty shop, waiting to get a perm in her hair.

The carload of kids coming from the prom saw no problem with drinking seven beers before they drove home.

Sitting on his desk, where he was found crumpled over, deceased from a heart attack, were plans for his new house.

There are philosophies that challenge you to think and dream about the future.

There are belief systems that contend we are at the mercy of our ancestors.

There is capitalism, which is always talking about five-year goal plans.

There are relatives who are intensely interested in what you want to do when you grow up.

There are calendars printed every year, with the assumption that you will be there as a customer later on.

Yet, just as it begins—unpredictably—It ends.

So what is our best way of thinking? How do we approach life on Earth with gusto, without overshooting the limitations of our own lifespan?

When do we look foolish and when do we look ill-prepared?

Daily. Probably the most intelligent words—seven of them—ever spoken were:

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

It doesn’t allow much kindness toward stockpiling or for those who wish to sleep in and “take it on tomorrow.”  They may eventually end up a day late if not a dollar short.

Trying to live your life in the encapsulation of twenty-four hours is exactly how it is envisioned in its construction.

Think of it:

We wake up. It’s like being born.

We prepare for the day—similar to going to school.

We arrive at work. Our lifespan.

We return home to eat dinner and relax, slowing down, simulating our later years.

We lay down and sleep, very similar to dying.

Yes, your life and my life is acted out every single day in a microcosm, with dramatic flair.

  • Stop thinking about the decade.
  • Ignore the year.
  • Walk away from those who are monthly planners.
  • Spurn the week.

Step into the day and look for opportunities to let the events grant you a lifetime of fulfillment.

Course

Course: (n) the path over which something moves

I have an internal comedy show going on inside my soul concerning the length of time that each and every fad will last—or shall I say, how quickly that particular “popularism” will disappear.

It wasn’t so long ago that people were bopping around, sticking their noses in your face and posing this question: What is your five-year funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
goal plan?

The first time I heard this, I realized it was irrelevant, and certainly destined to end up in the cultural cemetery, buried near “far out” and “hula hoop.”

But I have to admit, I was surprised at how long it did persist—and you will occasionally hear people do a variation on the theme: Where do you see yourself in five years?

But I will tell you—I think the reason these ridiculous inquiries gain popularity is that we human beings are weakened by our pernicious insistence that we must follow a course of action.

It seems righteous. It sniffs of organization.

It’s the kind of thing that investors like to hear from an entrepreneur.

  • “What are you going to do first?”
  • “What’s next?”
  • “What would be your third effort?”

I suppose if science, Mother Nature, luck and chaos could be included in our planning meeting for our course of action, and each of them voted to participate and promote the campaign, it might have some possibility.

But since science is only concerned about scientific conclusions and not your whim; Mother Nature has nurtured billions of souls before you showed up with your graphs and plans; luck—well, she remains as ambiguous as the veracity of her identity; and chaos is like a toddler locked up in a room filled with expensive glass vases, you may develop a course but there’s no guarantee that anybody will want to take it.

Time and chance happen to everyone, and sometimes you can be at the right place at the right time, but it still won’t turn out…right.

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