I must admit that one of the most fun things about this weekly blogging business is sometimes not really knowing what I’m going to write about until I actually begin typing. You might ask how that is possible, I realize, and all I can say is that it does require a kind of suspension of conscious purpose and an allowing of something else to take over. Does that make sense? Oh, well. That’s the best way I can describe it. So what makes it fun (for me, at least) is seeing what reveals itself, so to speak—what wants to be written. Yes, yes, certainly ideas and themes and seemingly random thoughts are swirling around at any given time, but what ends up taking center stage can sometimes be surprising—kind of like a roulette wheel spinning around, slowing down, and finally stopping on a number—a very clear, distinct number-- that was just part of the big blur when the wheel was going around.

So I had the idea for this post some time ago, and made a note of it but then kind of forgot about it. And now I know why—it’s because it needed to wait for its perfect time, which I’m thinking is now. A couple months ago I was reading Free Will Astrology, the wildly exuberant, poetic, deliciously rebellious website of Rob Brezsny, whose weekly horoscopes are brimming with allusions to history, literature, art, philosophy and a life relentlessly explored. I routinely read the horoscopes for all of the signs because they’re just that interesting and witty. It was the horoscope for Pisces that resonated with me, a portion of which follows—

"If you’re addicted to your problems or if you’re convinced that cynicism is a supreme mark of intelligence, what I’ll say may be offensive…For the sake of your mental health and the future of your relationship with love, consider the possibility that the following counsel from the French author Andre Gide is just what you need to hear right now: ‘Know that joy is rarer, more difficult, and more beautiful than sadness. Once you make this all-important discovery, you must embrace joy as a moral obligation.’"

Reading Rob’s defense of joy in this world triggered a memory of an incident that happened many years ago when I was waitressing in a hip little downtown restaurant that was frequented by artists, musicians, actors and others who liked the funky vibe. Anyway, this particular day I went up to one of my tables to take the orders of the young people who had just sat down, and greeted them—most likely beginning by asking how they were. My question was met with looks of astonishment and disapproval. As it turned out, John Lennon had been shot that day, and either I had indeed heard the news but was not as upset as they were, or had not heard the news yet. It was probably the former, knowing me, as I simply had never been a big Beatles fan. Mea culpa. Not that I didn’t think the news was shocking and sad, but it didn’t, to be honest, weigh on me. And my grief-less demeanor was apparently offensive to those at the table. In their minds, I was supposed to be very unhappy and something was wrong with me as I wasn’t.

Which brings me to the most recent tragedy that’s befallen our country—the one that’s currently saturating the media, and rightly so. I was talking to a dear friend today, and we discussed it a bit and then she mentioned that she kind of felt bad not giving it more attention during the course of our conversation. I responded that once you acknowledge the sadness and the horror of it, to continue to dwell on it does no one any good, unless dwelling on it leads to some sort of change or somehow helps those who have been impacted. Otherwise, you can get sucked down into the vortex of hopelessness and cynicism that seem to permeate our society. I know myself well enough by now to know that I am not cynical; nor do I feel hopeless. And to be honest, even though there are those who think that to not be cynical and to have hope in this world are easy and Pollyanna-ish, I can tell you that is not so. It’s much easier to be cynical and espouse despair, but they in fact are not what are needed, and I’m weary of both. What is needed, more than ever, are hope and joy.