gratitude

“How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it and why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought by a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager—I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?”

                                                                         Søren Kierkegaard

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It seems so unfair

That I should be so blessed

Growing up affluent, white, male

Relatively bright

Eventually somewhat handsome

A good education

No, a great education

Whitman, Princeton, SFTS

So many privileges

I have it all, and yet

Life does not always come together

It feels like Ikea without instructions

A jumble of things that don’t quite go together

And then I look around me

At people whose parents told them horrible things

Or abused them

At people who have never known anything but poverty

And who could not find a way

To get an education

Some of them are badly damaged indeed

But some of them, are happy

Content

Loved and loving

Perhaps it is a matter of choice at some level

One chooses to be unhappy

Always looking for bigger, better, more

One can go for life pushing, grabbing, seeking, lusting

Or one can choose to accept life as it comes

Expecting love, looking for love, and

Surprise,

Finding it

Looking for what is best in a situation or

Even a person

And finding it

Perhaps one can go to the manager (who just might be God)

With gratitude

Rather than grievance

And maybe one can find a way

To be happy

To be

here