Cold today, wind chill in the twenties. I’m getting crotchety. I increasingly find myself squinting at the world and wondering if maybe dignity disappeared around the time we began advertising our politics, gods, and the intelligence of our children on the bumpers of our cars. Thoughts like this must be resisted; I don’t want to become a prematurely old man, pining for a romanticized past. A chiding quote from Tristan Tzara comes to mind. Back in 1922, he said, “You’ll never know why you exist, but you’ll always allow yourself to be easily persuaded to take life seriously.”
Tonight I meditate to the sound of helicopters, sirens, and someone hollering on the street, repeatedly shouting, “You just don’t understand.”
