It’s Sunday, there’s time.
The week can feel bogged down by clamouring noise and striving. Living, trying to survive and matter in this world, is steeped in relentless clamouring, amidst a battlefield of wailing:
Hey, look at me, look at what I’m offering, look at what I have to give you. Come my way, come to my blog, my class, my therapy, buy my product, emulate my fabulous life, hook into my big idea.
The constant brawl of: Look at me and like me, is tiring, and deeply alienating.
Why we do it? It’s the model of the times, I guess. One’s overwhelmed by the sense of, damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. But something here is broken, I’m convinced, broken in a way that we haven’t completely fathomed.