Ennui:
Listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom.
This word shares the same heritage with annoy, and that’s the way I like it. Annoyed boredom.
That’s me, today.
I’ve had the privilege of seeing one of the world’s greatest rock bands, twice in one week, last week. I live in a home that’s worth nearly a half a million dollars (insanely overvalued, to be sure), I have a wonderful family, food to eat, TV with 75 channels (2 or 3 with actual programming worth watching, and that includes John Wayne movies), and a persistent connection to the Internet. I have transportation, credit, and friends. Yet, still, I languish in a pit, dug with my own hands, swimming in self-pity; seemingly unable to even rent a ladder. I can’t seem to find my bootstraps. I fear they’ve rotted away.
I heard the greatest essay on PBS radio yesterday. The author read, "You are what you give." It was the basis of her belief system, annealed by caring for and watching her daughter die from a progressing disease. She talked not only of giving with no strings, but of giving with no thought whatsoever of the recipients’ attitude, gratitude, or lack thereof. She does it because it suits her. She is right. It is the Biblical Imperative, stripped of all of its trappings and baggage.
God, prompt me to give, to love, to at least hold my tongue, sometimes. To move beyond my circumstances, however comfortable they may be. To move beyond random acts of kindness, to random acts of love.
To do something.
"To love is to heal, to hurt is to steal . . ."
"She Moves In Mysterious Ways", U2
