|Dancers on the Eiffel Tower. This as referring source.|
If we leave ourselves open to common talk, we will find these to be days full of trouble. Maintaining a state close to calm, unworried, may not be possible, insouciance unattainable. The gravitational pull of endless debate, speculation, outrage wears at the resolve to maintain quiet dignity and business as usual. As I prefer to live a peaceful life, I not only choose my battles, I sidestep them whenever possible. One reaches a certain age with no idea how many gallons remain in the tank, just how far from here one may be able to travel before the sputtering halt. I am capable of being wasteful with various resources, many of which I took for granted for too long. I am, however, clear about the finiteness of energy, emotional, mental, spiritual and physical, and wish to expend it on what/who matters. Inviting fried brain syndrome through unanswerable questions, chasing my own tail, allowing my spirits to sink under epic unpleasantness will not do.
Is there any city on the planet so associated, historically, with what is beautiful, art-filled, love-powered, glittering, intoxicating and far, far from the madding crowd as Paris? To see the dancers, some en pointe, satin ribbons all around shining under the Paris sky while the yards of tulle in their costumes identify them in such an unambiguous way, is to remember we have choices about how to engage with the sea of life in which we tread water. I am not unconcerned nor disconnected from the politics and future of the free world. I know I have nothing to add to the rhetoric. For reasons of preserving peace of mind I will not step into it as into battle and refuse to try and shout down anyone whose opinion differs from mine. Because it is what I wish for myself, not just on this matter but generally, I feel that all of us are entitled to our preferences, without explanation, without defense.