You know, I'm not so sure we need to recover from our past. The incessant whining about how we were dealt the short stick in life, the job we don't like, the house or car we'd like to have, the aches and pains of our ailing bodies, the terrible job our parents did raising us, the poor little Bible thumpers that hate us and discriminate us, and all of the rest. Instead, I'm sort of thinking that we need to be rescued from our present.....the glib course of self-destruction that we've finely crafted for ourselves. The present days in which we live are pretty funky...and not necessarily in a good way. I feel sometimes like we're on a breakneck course through the decades -- speeding along toward who knows what destination with little regard for our globe or those who we rub shoulders with from day to day. We require our iPhones, our laptops, our time and space, our Bluetooth, good service wherever we go, quiet neighbors, Apple this or that, family and friends who we like being around and who we expect to love us in spite of the crap we drag into their lives -- and we're not willing to sacrifice or go without any of it. Our pocketbooks dwindle and our economy ebbs and tides at the brink of destruction. It's not a pretty picture.
We no longer seem to need the peacefulness of the night nor the solitude of the single first ray of sun in the mornings. We seem to have misplaced the eroticism of a summer garden tomato splashing about in our mouths in exchange for a cardboard box of processed food. We apparently find it a waste of time to have to crank and crank and crank an ice cream maker while sprinkling tiny bits of rock salt and ice on it in order to close our eyes, throw our heads back, and enjoy some of the world's grandest glories.....homemade ice cream. (With fresh peaches, please.) We find ourselves glancing at the time on our mobile phones and wondering exactly how much time we need to endure on our neighbor's patio -- that is, if we even know who our neighbors are. We have taken to enjoying the inside of our cars more than the outside of the universe. We find it difficult to endure a 90-minute black and white flick of yesteryear for fear our Facebook friends have "updated" or our Twitter buddies are tweeting/ twitting/whatever it's called.
Yeah folks, I'm afraid it's today that we need to recover from.