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Today, two angry old men ranted and raved at each other, trying to convince voters across the USA who was the most trustworthy.
At the same time, millions of people watched the two angry old men and ranted and raved at their television sets as they tried to decide who was the least trustworthy.
But as the angry old men rant and rave, it’s easy to defer our own responsibilities.
When I write a post, I don’t yearn for it to find an audience of millions.
I just write.
I’m not dreaming of the masses.
I’m believing that it will be helpful to someone.
Anyone.
The past is the past.
There are chapters that have been completed.
They are done and they can’t be changed.
But there are still pages unwritten.
They are blank, but full of opportunity.
11-time NBA championship winning coach, Phil Jackson tells the story of a young prince who was sent by his father to study how to become a good ruler with a great Chinese master.
The first assignment that the master gave him was to spend a year in the forest alone.
When the prince returned, the master asked him to describe what he had heard. He replied, “I could hear the cuckoos sing, the leaves rustle, the hummingbirds hum, the grass blow, the bees buzz, the crickets chirp and the wind whisper and holler.”
Someone needs you today.
They need your enthusiasm.
They need your optimism.
They need a kind word from you.
They need your encouragement.
Just imagine that when you wake up, you find a bucket full of water next to your bed.
And then, as you wander around to the day, you carry that bucket with you.
Every now and then, you stop, and pour out some of the water, bringing life and the potential for growth to the dry, parched earth.
And then, you keep walking, looking for more dry patches that can be nourished.
Now, imagine that you did this every day.
Hope is rising.
It’s lifting expectations.
It’s elevating the spirit.
It’s boosting enthusiasm.
Hope is rising.
St Francis of Assisi once said,
“A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.”
There are a lot of shadows at the moment.
Many people seem to be living in a very dark place.
They are anxious.
According to Australian Indigenous writer, Tyson Yunkaporta,
“It takes a few generations for pigs to get over it when they escape into the bush. At first they remain the fat, pink, stupid beasts they were selectively bred to become over centuries of captivity. But soon they grow black bristles and long tusks, each generation becoming faster, stronger, smarter until the formidable razorback emerges.”
Pigs in farms become bacon.
Author Barbara Vance wrote this wonderful poem,
If you always try your best
Then you’ll never have to wonder
About what you could have done
If you’d summoned all your thunder.
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