I choose to love, not because I’m loved.
I choose to give, not because I receive.
I choose joy, even in the bitter, not as an insult to others whose bitter may break their hearts. My joy may be a matter of my own survival, my own lifeline.
I choose grief. Grief for the losses, grief for the sadness in the world around me.
I choose not to dwell on so much joy that I fail to see such grief, just as I choose not to dwell on such grief so that I fail to see the joy.
It’s easy, in this life of to-do lists and agendas, to embrace the smaller choices, like exactly how we want our cappuccino or which accessories we want to layer our apparel with. It’s easy, with so many decisions, to trick ourselves to believing we are empowered by these mini, irrelevant choices. Decaf soy, one pump of caramel, light foam. It becomes a part of us, these silly words spoken, that they boost our feathers as we speak them. As we generally drink our overpriced indulgence though, are we thinking of the joys in those very moments, the ones that matter beyond our lips? The barista who served with a smile? What about the instance when our detailed drink description wasn’t quite met? Are we handling those with love? When our breakfast order substitutions come back wrong and runny, do we still proudly embrace great choices?
I can honestly say my answer is no.
We’ve become a culture cloaked in the power of the mini-choice. Which tv shows to watch, of the hundreds. Which bands to love, which movies to see, where to have dinner, which books to read. We cling so tightly to all of these choices that we forget that these are all entertainment based luxuries and sometimes we (I) fail to embrace (or even acknowledge) the real decisions staring me in the face…
This post was written as a part of Five Minute Fridays, and I’m joining Liso-Jo’s link up as we all take five minutes to write using the same one word prompt.