Trying to stay grateful can feel hard sometimes. If that in itself is an ungrateful thought, well hey, I'm doing my best. 

What I mean is: gratitude is important. It would be wonderful if everything that was important was easy. We'd be able to take care of all our basic needs like *that,* security at the snap of our fingers. But then, there has always seemed to me an intrinsic relationship between the importance of something and how difficult it is to hold. Like shining gold buried deep in the earth. Like standing in the spotlight. If it's something everyone else has, if my neighbor can have it just as easy as I can, it can't be worth much. 

That's how it seems. But what an awful concept!

And almost certainly true. A basic law of scarcity. We believe that a thing's value is linked to how much of it we can get. It's part of the oncoming storm (drought?) of water rationing. It figures in brand names with purse companies who burn unsold bags rather than see the poor use them. It's there in the hustle to get a "respectable" or avoid an "embarrassing" job. We value certain foods higher, certain books, certain titles and one-of-a-kind artwork masterpieces: the unlikeliness of encountering a thing again makes its value skyrocket. 

Is it there in love, too?

The idea of "love," much like the idea of religion, is stuffed up the gut with contradictions. It almost seems to require them to function. I am one thing; I am many things. I am a rare jewel; I am a grain of sand. Love is something that can be given to everyone, but also it is something to share only with those closest to you. Religion provides a path that everyone can follow, but only an uncommon spirit will be able to follow it perfectly. 

I'm getting away from myself. And that's exactly not the point -- yes, suck it, I know the prose gets pretzel-ey, with my viewership this is basically a journal at this point--the point is, that although it can feel hard sometimes to try for something that half of your brain says should be easy, it's the recognizing the "sometimes" that is the greatest gift. 

I am able to be grateful. I am able to know that this time, more so than others, it is hard for me to do so. But I am able to do so. And more than that, it represents an awareness that I think -- although perhaps I only want to think -- is rather rare. 

I might be flailing all over the damn place. But I know what flailing is. I know it's different than the other steady, standing people. And even if I can't say why, I know I'm -- at at least a lower level -- choosing to flail. I'd rather be me, flailing, slowly weirding everyone else out, than clamp my arms to the side and stand quietly in line. 

Honestly? I'll probably join the line at some point. It's a rare soul who doesn't. 

But f*ck it. Let's flail a bit more for the sake of shaking things up, at least. 

Silliness before stillness.