I had no idea on the 26th of January that my life was about to change — or maybe I did. My blog post that day was a collection of random thoughts, one of the last of which was this:
“If I’m unhappy where I am, I’ll be unhappy when I get where I’m going.”
Projecting? I’m sure I was. In hindsight, it was prophetic.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about today. From the same post, another thought:
“The decline of our society can be traced directly to three things: the snooze alarm, the ‘undo’ command, and the participation award.”
I truly believe that. Talk all you want about fluoride and soy and drag queen story hour — the three things I called out in January doom our culture.
The snooze alarm is on my mind today.
Where are my morning people? I know you’re out there. Even though I can’t track individual visitors to Ubi Libertas Blog, I can see when activity spikes and when it sags.
Yesterday’s post, for example, dropped ’round 4am CDT, and within five minutes it had more than two dozen hits. I recognize that many of you are in the Eastern time zone, but still, that’s 5am.
I know a little bit about my readers, anecdotally, through personal contact and private messages. I have strong suspicions about who’s jumping on at four or five in the morning.
Farmers and ranchers. Homesteaders. RVers. Fitness buffs. People with physical issues requiring treatment or therapy at an early hour. A cop working graveyard. Nurses getting ready for rounds and pre-op.
Folks enjoying the day’s first cup of coffee or cigarette (or both). Individuals my age, give or take, not wanting to squander daylight.
These are my morning people. I doubt that many of them use a snooze alarm. Most don’t need an alarm clock.
“…when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
1 Corinthians 13
It’s not that I’ve never “hit snooze” myself — I was addicted to it in my younger years. Then arrived the demands of work and profession, probably in my mid-20s, and it became obvious how pointless those nine (or 18 or 27) extra minutes of pseudo-sleep really are.
I grew up. I developed discipline.
I put a stop to the practice of beginning each day by procrastinating.
Procrastination kills. We all know that. And if I start my day by putting off the start of my day, my day won’t be as good as it could be.
I’m committed to seeing as many sunrises as I see sunsets. I want to be the guy who gets more done by noon than most people do all week.
So here’s to my fellow morning people. Let’s get after it and get shit done.
Those are just a few of the birds that sang in the trees while I took yesterday morning’s coffee.
And here’s my world, as seen through the eyes of a morning person.
Yesterday’s maps from the National Weather Service Storm Prediction Center confirmed that I’d better keep an eye on next Monday and Tuesday.
“Resistance is futile,” said the Borg. Trekkers know that turned out not to be so, but every day, you and I are presented with examples of true futility.
We can’t make someone care. We can’t make someone want to [whatever]. We can’t make someone believe. We can’t make someone honorable. We can’t make someone work.
And yet we think we can, don’t we?
“Never try to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and it annoys the pig.”
Robert A. Heinlein
Another manifest futility is acting as if life comes with guarantees. We plan. We predict. We arrange things just so. And it never quite plays out the way we think it will.
I’d like to suggest today that life doesn’t create futility — we do. Life is just doing what life does.
Our inability to impose feelings and qualities on others reminds us that we’re better off tending to our own business. And unpredictability is a feature, not a bug.
Focus on yourself. Roll with life’s body blows, because that same uncertainty can bring joy you didn’t see coming.
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
Allen Saunders, 1957
The foregoing train of thought came to me yesterday morning, prompted by something that happened in the normal course of things. Probably not what you’d expect.
(There are no pictures. I didn’t even have my phone on me at the time.)
The camp chairs I hosed off on Wednesday were still damp Thursday morning. I pulled them out and set them in the sun.
Later, I brought Smudge outside, off-leash. I flopped down in one of the almost-dry chairs, figuring I could keep an eye on her from that perch.
Before I knew it, she’d jumped into the other chair, tail wagging, a big Heeler smile on that Heeler face. She reached over and pawed at me, as if she was proud of something.
Then it dawned on me — she remembered. These were the chairs I always brought along when she was a puppy. I’d sit in one and train her to sit in the other, next to me. It had been well over a year since she’d seen these chairs, but she remembered.
It gets better.
After happily prancing on the seat awhile, Smudge laid down, put her chin on the arm of the chair and closed her eyes. Mind you, she was off-leash, which is her cue to go full-dervish on me. And yet there she was, at peace, the picture of contentment.
That was a cool moment — then again, that’s life. Didn’t see it comin’.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable