The Road to Diamond, Day 252: Unrequested

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August 7, 2025- In a well-appointed room, at a resort along a prosperous coast, a young man stretches and prepares to enjoy a summer’s day, on his break from University. He didn’t ask for good fortune, but it follows him. Perhaps he will someday go through equally unrequested heartbreak and suffering, but for now, all is well.

In a rock-strewn, hollowed out gulch, along a desolate, impoverished coast, a young girl tends to her two younger siblings, feeding them biscuits and a few leaves of spinach. They didn’t ask for this ill fortune, but it follows them. Perhaps they will someday see prosperity, as a now elusive peace settles on their homeland, but for now, survival is all that lies in front of them.

In a small Midwestern town, a father shops around for enough food to bring to his wife and four children. He stretches his dollars, as his father did before him, and Grandpa before that. None have asked for ongoing ups and downs of the local economy, but it has long settled among them. Perhaps someday there will be a return to locally grown food as a standard, rather than as a set of anomalies, but for now, he and they push forward, day to day.

On the roof of an apartment, in a hardscrabble Caribbean neighbourhood, three young men sit and discuss how they might respond to news of a wealthy man taking charge of their country. They didn’t choose him, and though he offers hope of stability, they have heard it all before-as have their parents and grandparents, going back eight generations. Perhaps someday, there will be a true and honest consultation among the people, but for now, the young men will follow whoever seems to have the power on the streets of their city.

I think of these people, and others, as I sit in an apartment which I chose, in the city where I gladly chose to live, eating food that I prepared myself, from ingredients also freely chosen. It hasn’t always been a life of choice, at least outwardly. Yet, the changes that have taken place in my life have been influenced by my preferences-even when those choices are small, limited and not the most optimal.

I hope and pray, for each person finding self in harrowing conditions, or in debilitatingly privileged states, to ponder the options that may be available-and take the ones that will bring beneficence, even if it starts out as a few more morsels, or a bit more conscientious self-restraint.

Unsticking from the Hustle

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May 14, 2020-

One of the issues that some who are not seeing their business at death’s door, during the current pandemic, is that they miss their prior routine, so much.  They are going stir crazy, from being “stuck in the hustle”, working ten-twelve hours, daily, even from home.  The presence of their children, pets, even of their spouse, does not deter them.

Long ago, I was there, to the point that I would come back from my office, a forty-five minute drive from our house, spend five minutes getting a recap of my wife’s and son’s days, and get ready for bed.  The zombie act did not faze either of them- and to their credit, they spoke up.  Son was in seventh grade at the time and wasn’t buying the fatigue excuse-being quite outspoken, about being entitled to some of my time.  He was right, and my long-suffering wife, knowing just how hard it was to do a good job, by a less-than-appreciative boss, would have been within her rights to insist on much the same.

In the end, the fatigue induced by an impossible set of expectations, from a man who lived ten minutes away from the worksite, led to my resignation, in md-year.  That I was also framed by an underling, mattered little.  It was my choice to opt for leaving the cauldron and going into a less-stressful line of work, thus saving my place in the hearts of those who mattered most.

We are all left with the fact that, no matter how complex a situation is, the choice as to the direction of one’s life, belongs to that individual.  It may take longer for a person, whose presence is more crucial than mine was, to process the  pros and cons of one action, over another, but we are each given a Rubicon, or two, to cross in our lives.

En-titled

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December 9, 2017, Prescott-

I awoke this morning,

in a state of tension.

“Come off it, self!

This is Saturday,

and no one expects

anything of you,

except that you

take part in the

noon conference call.”

I got myself together,

drove to one friend’s house,

picked up a bin of cut juniper,

and delivered to another’s house.

Somehow, I will want to do better

than that.

The pieces of wood are small

in the second friend’s eyes.

Aren’t we a funny breed?

A person is entitled

to big, to fine, to proper,

to sufficient.

I thought of other friends,

in Ojai,

looking at the embers

and foundation, where

once, there was a

home similar to

the second friend’s

house, here.

Where is their piece

of entitlement, now?

Once upon a time,

an angry young woman

demanded of her mate,

that he throw me out

of the house

that five of us shared.

It was mid-February,

cold, snowy,

central Maine.

An older couple

took me in,

two days later.

Seems the Universe

decided that I

was entitled to

dignity, and

freedom from

pneumonia.

Here’s how I see it, now.

These are our entitlements:

Respect, with regard to

our persons,

our time,

our necessaries.

Love,

unconditional,

therefore, never forced.

Opportunity,

to make choices

and to follow through,

on those choices.

These three

are enough for me.

All else proceeds

from them.