Being Empty

I recently had an interesting, albeit brief exchange with an influencer online; one I didn’t fully see eye to eye with. After thinking about it, the following came to mind.

BEING EMPTY

What’s wrong if I don’t ogle over a sunset?

Don’t make cooing sounds as a flower

blooms in my garden.

Or walk quickly past a puppy playing on a lawn.

Is there something broken, something

incomplete? Am I missing the point in

being here, having my emotions become inert?

***

I am as happy as the next guy and as lonely

as all the rest. I’m anxious when I’m careful

and careful when at rest and, in the end,

I ponder questions, that others leave alone -

so, am I better for being empty or full of

answers that I don’t own?

Apparently, I’m screwing up on a regular basis. So, say the experts and those standing next to me at the checkout line in Ralphs.

Who knew.

I thought I was observant.

I thought I was engaging with the universe and it was talking right back.

But apparently not. Apparently, I’m letting too many things slide. I’m a victim of the Man. Allowing society to tell me what to do — and I didn’t even know this.

Thanks to those who know me for all of fifteen minutes, this has just come to light.

There are things right in front of me that could change my life. Send it careening off in a more positive direction. Forever alter my bottom line and give me the financial peace I’ve been seeking.

How is it that these knowing few see things that I don’t see?

Know things that I just seem to miss.

Funny how that works.