Storm clouds and sunshine

It is so much easier to write passionately about what I don't like. The metaphors roll off my lips like logs floating down a river and the only jam is the strawberry on my toast.

I've always had niggling questions about why that is.

I think part of it is that humans are hard wired to be passionate about ridding themselves of problems. Roadblocks along life's way were meant to be overcome and the people most passionate about that are lauded by those who benefit from it too.

Another part is a little less obvious. We like to think we are happy, sunshiny people who dance around thinking the glass is half full, that lemons were made just for lemonade and even storm clouds have a silver lining, but . . .

My world is relentlessly harsh on those who are Pollyanna-ish, calling them dreamers and star gazers. Implying that they don't see the forest for the trees, the boulders under the waters of life, the teeth that will bite the hand that feeds them. In other words I suspect them of turning a blind eye to the realities of the real world. I try to invalidate their thoughts and perceptions because either they really are not valid, or I am threatened by my own inability to see things from that point of view.

It takes courage to talk about the beauty of life when hell is raging all around me, when the top man in the country is a spiteful manipulator and policemen are armed and dangerous.

The truth is that nothing is absolute. In the worst of times there are moments of bliss that crop up if I have the eyes, the will, and the determination to see them.