Choose: (v) to pick out, select or decide on a course of action
I could be kind or I could be mean. I can choose.
I could be alert, or I could be dull. It’s for me to choose. Alert is what we applaud and dull is what we observe.
I can be selfish, or look for opportunities to be giving. Is it true that if I give I actually get more, or is that just promotional talk from those who desperately need me to give?
I can choose to enjoy the holidays, or complain about how hectic they are. I do seem to be more grown-up when I bitch. Isn’t that ironic?
I can choose to believe in God, or don the garments of the intelligentsia and sneer at the notion. Do I really want to tie myself into a bunch of hillbilly religionists? Yet do I want to choose to be part of the obnoxiously over-educated?
I can insist I’m a man with no knowledge of women, or scream like a woman who says she is unfairly treated by a man. I suppose I could choose to be a man who understands that a woman is just a human. But it would be a very unpopular position.
That’s the problem. The things I feel I need to choose, which are full of spirit and life, are often relegated to being “buddied up” with the ridiculous and superstitious.
How will I choose?
Can I keep my choice to myself, or must my light shine before all men?
How will we choose?
How can we choose and satisfy the disgruntled masses, while pursuing the glory and advantage of simply believing there’s more?