Until I’m looking at the other side of the grass

There is no point whinging about the absurdity of this life, though I am compelled to be like all of us, a little aggrieved that it must end at some time. The dichotomy of life is not lost on me. We exist as imperfect beings, unique and extraordinary in our capacity to withstand grief, hardship, pain, loss, suffering and in our abundance to love and bring joy, laughter and happiness into the lives of others.

To harbour hatred in a vessel that it designed to be illuminated by wisdom and compassion, is as pointless as filling spring water into a muddy vase.  Life is the most precious essence of all. Why is it that the living of life is fraught with such peril?

I have been considering the art of distraction. It is a well honed physiological strategy that mothers of young children, addicts in and out of recovery and politicians, regularly use. We all use distraction. Some use ‘busy work’, obsessively attempting to control the universe by having origami folded hand towels and dust free homes. Others have art works on washing lines, with matching pegs and clothes in ascending size to obtain maximum sun.  Those with higher order thinking skills prize their intelligence,  diligence and dedication, surrendering  countless unpaid hours in the pursuit of recognition and respect, while distracting themselves from the reality of their replaceable selves.

I have been known to watch absolute rubbish on the box. I have a bookshelf which shouts academic, literary lover and obsessive book collector but I like to watch reality television. While I may draw the line at Big Brother, Dating Naked (seriously?) and any alcoholic    housewife of any state of America, I admit I have watched Mob Wives. A study in aggressive, undereducated women with mafia links and incarcerated  partners and over inflated self worth and value.  “I know violence is not the answer…but yes it is” – Drita.

This appears to be in conflict with the reality of having cancer and realising that time is finite and often less than we imagine that we have. It is challenging to say in the present and attached to reality, as fantasy or the quick boil of a stranger’s emotional instability is more palatable than facing the truth of mortality. Call it relaxing, downtime or avoidance, it is time wasted. An opiate , morphine to dull the intellect.





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