Worth, work and the trouble with trouble

Ubi Libertas Blog is, if I’m being honest about it, a side project. A public journal. A documentary. An intensely personal chronicle. Historically, my posts have appeared with a certain regularity.

Lately, not so much.

Writing about life takes a back seat to living it — I don’t orchestrate my days to make for good reading. Sometimes life gets busy, even messy. Sometimes it’s not terribly interesting. Either way, I feel neither pressure nor obligation to post.

It’s also true that I do a good bit of writing outside the blog. Most of that I do for me. Some of it you may see here in the future. The exercise tends to exhaust my capacity for expression on a given day, and with it my interest in composing for public consumption.

And so you get what you get, as often as you get it. I make no apologies.

*Smudge and I shared a sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuit at the park while tripping into town the other day. She expects but never begs.*

The familiar phrase, “worth the trouble,” showed up in front of me earlier this week. As long as I was waiting out severe storms and heavy rain anyway — punctuated by a power outage lasting exactly one hour — I decided to give the expression some critical thought.

I do that often, turning a common word or an old saying into a sort of kōan. I’ll examine it to reveal new understanding or flawed thinking behind it.

When we say that a thing is (or isn’t) “worth the trouble,” we explicitly admit to “the trouble.” Whatever it is, we see it as a bother, a burden, an inconvenience of some kind. And although true trouble is inevitable in life, the more often we invoke the label, the more we risk calling out anything that isn’t quick or easy as “trouble.”

Looking around my world these days, I see a solitary, rustic life in which I do virtually everything myself. Outside, I find six pallets of stacked cordwood seasoning for next winter. Propane tanks that need swapping. A chimney I’ll have to sweep. In a kitchen that’s not equipped with a dishwasher (and never will be) is a sink that’s not piled high with dirty dishes.

On the floor next to me sleeps a Heeler requiring care and feeding. I recall giving my crippled girl Scout months and months of bonus sunrises by physically carrying her wherever she needed to go.

And on and on. Worth the trouble?

No — worth the effort. The life I live is worth whatever work it demands.

It’s no trouble at all.

The alternative is to view every chore, circumstance and relationship as trouble to be overcome rather than work to be done. It makes hell of heaven and transforms paradise into Purgatory. Prosperity is overshadowed by the perception of poverty. Such a mindset is the calling card of incurable victims, chronic complainers and habitual quitters.

While surveying social media early this morning, I smiled to see that a couple of my old friends are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary today. Fifty years. I can promise you that they didn’t get there because either one saw building a long and happy marriage as “trouble.”

They worked at it. I suspect they’d tell you that it’s been worth their time, energy and effort.

Congratulations, kids.

What I’m talking about here isn’t positivity. It’s not gamesaying, trading one word for another. It’s a willful escape from the trap of trouble and the joyous embrace of life for what it is — work.

Let’s get on with it.

. . .

Pro tip: Go buy Doritos and Coke. Now.

As corporate sponsors of The World’s Largest Sporting Event, both Coca-Cola and Frito-Lay greatly overestimated both Americans’ interest in soccer and how deep Team USA would go. Retailers are stuck with overstocks of licensed and soccer-themed product, and the brands are offering stores financial incentives to blow it out quickly.

For you and me, that means discounts of up to 50% at big chains like Walmart and Kroger. Look for them. If you’re so inclined, stock up.

(The final is Sunday, and I expect the merchandise will be pulled early next week.)

. . .

Smudge eats her breakfast at 5am, give or take, every day. When she finishes, more often than not she’ll amble over to her dog bed next to the love seat where I sip my morning coffee.

Apparently, a belly rub helps with digestion.

What follows is a test of your smile reflex. This is only a test.