I try lately to realize how many things I find "normal" in my life in fact result from the good fortune with which I've been blessed. I don't know what to make of that word "fortune", which, like its cousins "destiny" and "fate", proves so very useful as a word precisely because its exact meaning remains imprecise. Yet I feel the lightness--and the weight--of all the advantages and bursts of health and favorable situation with which I have been provided.
I rather admire people who keep water gardens in the desert. By this, I mean people who cut against the grain of what their "fortune" otherwise dictates, in a positive way. I notice that among my friends a kind of focus and a sense of disregarding certain inessentials seem to assist in this kind of achievement. These two things are no small things--it's always a challenge to escape the tintinabulation of one's own worries and fears.
I also like that it sometimes takes so little rain to bring a desert into bloom. People exist in droves, ready to germinate, to progress. All anyone needs is a little rain. Unlike in real weather life, a surprising number of people somehow make their own rain. Metaphors are curious in that way--they can escape the railings of their constructs, and turn into thundershowers made from molten sand.
I hope our local real-life drought subsides. Although it is not of the "cattle lay dying" variety this year, it palpably outwears its welcome. Yet I hope to live a bit more as if I am thankful for the abundant rain in my life--and solicitous of ways to help generate a little sprinkle in others' lives.