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A decade ago, when I decided to begin my mornings with a pen in hand and a cup of coffee by my side, I never realized at the time what a fundamental shift that decision would have on how I view the world. Before that fateful day, my routine of fetching my mug and turning on the news filled me with anxiety about the inevitable doom to befall the country and the world.
I turned it on yesterday morning for kicks and giggles, and I am pleased to report that nothing has changed. The world as we know it will end on November 7.
My stomach roiled into a stressful knot, so I turned off what my mother called the idiot box and opened my journal. Writing about and listening to the thoughts swirling around in my head after finishing the second book in a two-book series written by French Author Katherine Pancol (The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles and The Slow Waltz of Turtles), I was moved with thoughts of inspiration and filled with creative ideas about a book I am writing.
Joe, Mika, Rachel, Anderson–Tucker, Sean, and Judge Jeanine never left me inspired; they filled me with dread, doom, and a profound sense of gloom. I felt helpless, scratching my head with confusion and fear.
I have no negative comments on any of them; they all have great hair.
Back then, I believed that watching the news made me intelligent. I digested the words of the rocking network bobbleheads and passed around my new knowledge like a parrot who learned a new word. Researching what I heard was unnecessary; Anderson Cooper’s mom was Gloria Vanderbilt, after all. She designed great blue jeans that hugged your derriere. Surely, her son could be trusted to do the complex research.
Most of it is hyperbolic conjecture and defies the laws of gravity, good taste, and symmetry–What? Exactly.
Ditch the phone and TV and introduce yourself to Voltaire, Marcus Aurelius, John Kennedy-Toole, and other historical greats; your eardrums will thank you, and Ignatius J. Riley will pat you on the back.
Leaving the screeching noise to focus on the beauty of life outside of the political spectrum, reading great and not-so-great literature along with fiction, non-fiction, philosophy, biographies, and whatever else the great sponge between my ears wants to absorb leaves me filled with hope and promise that the purveyors of doom and gloom will fade into obsolescence like a summer sunset, leaving calm in their wake.
As far as the vast wasteland of politics is concerned:
Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis once said, “We can have democracy in this country, or we can have great wealth concentrated in the hands of the few, but we can’t have both.
My contribution to his quote goes like this: At the end of the day, the world’s fattest wallets control the policies that govern us. Since I can do nothing about it–
–I’m going to energize the sponge and enjoy a Moveable Feast on a hike through the dunes today. Hemingway can be a great company under a tree.
Well said, my friend. Getting outside and away from the noise is good for the "sponge" and the soul. Say "hi" to the Dunes for me. They will be featured in an upcoming piece of mine. xo