Happiness is boring.
Hence, the silence of last week.
I search for words this week. I seem to have nothing to say.
And it’s funny for a doomer to be happy, don’t you think? Even while I anticipate 2015 to be full of bad news; even as I watch our slow motion collapse; even as I mourn the rape of the planet; I can still smile and laugh and look forward to the future.
Doomers may define the future a bit differently than the delusional. The future, for me, is measured in days, weeks, maybe months. Years and decades are off of the table – sort of like the word “normal” – because we are living in the Sixth Great Extinction. Past next week and I’m no longer sure the sun will rise.
It’s an interesting route to living in the moment. Or something akin to it.
Losses, great and small, await. Of course. Those that can be anticipated, like Bubble’s demise, add seasoning to the present. Many more will come as a shock or surprise.
But here and now, there are so many small pleasures. A cat in the lap. Birds at the feeders. A dog snore. A warm fire. And books. Oh my, after such a long separation, the library is affording so much pleasure. I’m re-reading fiction by author and these loved books are like new!
This howl is gratitude.