Now that the food is ate
Can I be realistic and honest after having had sometime to reflect on Thanksgiving and the human condition as a whole. The only thing about each of our lives that is mandatory is that we eventually die. Some of us do it within a matter of days after conception, and, according to a few of the news sources I follow, some of us do it well after we've reached the ripe old age of a hundred and fifty, but that's the guaranteed only experience each and every single one of us is going to share. Everything else bad that happens to us is not necessarily something we'll all have dealt with; therefore we can't just expect anyone we come in contact with to be able to relate and or understand, and everything good that happens for us is a luxury, privilege, and courtesy not everybody gets afforded. Somewhere out there somebody isn't even adequately sheltered, fed, or clothed. If you are it's at least in part due to a courtesy once extended to you by another. Are you ever thankful for that? I hate to say it, but somebody out there got murdered today, got framed and didn't receive a fair trial today, was homeless and got spit on today, etc. If none of those things happened to you it's at least in part due to a courtesy that's been granted you, and you as well as I should be thankful for it. Here's what specifically started this train of thought for me today: I was thinking about how I used to like to make it known how much others presence in my life wasn't necessarily needed or appreciated until the day I figured out I was running off much needed participants, I was in no position to make it through life without the assistance of anybody else, and that I don't like hearing how unimportant I am. Now, I'm more about if I don't want to hear it come out your mouth I don't want it coming out of my mouth, and if I need it from you I should be willing to give it to you; so currently the philosophy for this stage in my life should be, "If I like the courtesy I should want to extend the same courtesy." I'm not perfect at it. There are days where my emotions get the best of me, and my mouth lets out words I regret. My stinginess still exists from time to time. I'm not perfect, and probably won't ever get to be. At least I'm no longer giving in to the, "They would screw me over if they could" or the "It's happened to me before" mentality that used to run my thinking. Today, and hopefully from now until my mandatory end, at least I care. Do you?
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