Catch Jim Reed’s Red Clay Diary podcast on youtube: https://youtu.be/cZ82suLes4w

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Life, actually…

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BROKEN NEWS AND TIME-TAKERS

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Sometimes I grow weary of BREAKING NEWS. At times like this I want to unplug all the external influencers and take a moment to ponder what is really, really important.

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Assuming the news is now officially BROKEN NEWS, I can do away with the idea of dancing to those constantly arrhythmic ALERTS and just try to listen to the quiet.

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Listen to the quiet.

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Gazing around this deep south village, I watch for the real souls who are otherwise ignored in my haste to Get There, my haste to be so busy Getting There that I can no longer recognize when I actually Arrive There.

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There’s one now. A real soul. Note that he is not part of the hive.

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He takes his time. He is a time-taker. He wins my day.

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Actually, he does not take time away from me. Instead, he nurtures and notices time. He does not hurry and squander. He rows slowly and closes in on what is really worthy of his time.

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He is now the official spokesperson for all wise and kindly people who take time to pat the roses, assist the infirm, bolster the melancholic, comfort the disoriented.

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Look, there’s another soul!

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She is another official spokesperson for all wise and kindly people who do not realize how wise they are, who do not take time to describe themselves as wise and kindly because they are too busy being wise and kind.

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I see them here and there as daily hours roll past.

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They are easy to miss, these special people.

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They are underappreciated because I am so busy basking in the goodness they exhale with every breath, the goodness that propels me to be better, to try harder. The goodness that refuses to fold under pressure of negativity and cynicism, power mongering and steamrolling.

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Their goodness endures because its roots are invisible. Defoliants can’t get to them.

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As I said, at this very moment, there is one of them walking toward me.

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I can sense a free child basting within her smile.

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And oh, what a smile

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© Jim Reed 2022 A.D.

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