Blah, blah, blah...
More narcissistic navel-gazing, I'm afraid. Days of short sunlight will do that to me.
Ever am I plagued with fears of excessive complacence. It's true that I love my life, every bit of it, and I never tire of reminding myself (and everyone else) of that truth. But, the danger of succumbing to comfort and contentment must be guarded against.
Hey, people, the springtime may be a memory, but there is still some sap in the tree. (Don't take that metaphor anywhere you think you shouldn't.) I dislike the idea that I have let life soften me. I deny it.
Rather, I believe I have come to a better understanding of which battles are worth fighting and which are pointless and futile. Of the former, there is that a man should not become a bigot; or, if he finds that he has become one, that he not remain so. Of the latter, there is the attempt to change the mind of a bigot; experience teaches that only himself can do it.
I have found two endeavors that are perfect antidotes to encroaching bigotry: travel and reading. Both will open windows in the psyche and cleanse away bias with the light afforded by dilated perspective.
Times being what they are, it will be a while before I can manage any overseas travel. So, today I took a walk down to Powell's Books on Hawthorne and picked up three titles:
- In Evil Hour - Gabriel García Márquez
- Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman
- Poems and Songs - Robert Burns
A reading list is a wonderful thing to have during winter. If you're looking for something to read, I'm always happy to suggest titles. I suppose it is no secret by now that I'm always willing to offer an opinion!