The Equanimity of Choice
The coffee is hot this morning. I hazard a cup with the cows 2% contribution. I hold my breath so as not to corrupt the aroma with the mugs industrial odor. “Ahhhh, taste like the trail coffee on our Boy Scout expeditions.” The breakfast tray of “mourning,” without the hard-boiled egg, looks like a second-grade science project. This is the kind of food that sustains you in the short-term but kills you in the long-term. Such is my present state, working in a peasants office performing the duties of a serf.
This is Steven in the Blind writing to you from a remote location in exile with both a resilient mind and a steely heart. Lest I seem boastful; I ask you to bear witness to my claims as you join me in today’s post. I am frothing for a challenging discourse.Continue Reading