Wrestling

Most days of the week, I have to be mentally diligent. This means telling positive stories to avoid slipping into complaining, dread, and sadness. My interventions include meditation, spiritual reading, gratitude practices, journaling, long walks , device management, reading, listening to music, and spending time with family and friends.

Saturday is the exception.

Saturday is my favorite day of the week. I enjoy Saturday. I wake up when I want, don't have a commute to consider, a lunch to pack, or time deadlines to meet.

It is a day of rising early, heading down to the beach, getting coffee, then sitting on the Sandhills while watching people surf. Finally, Sunday, I wake up, and then around noon, I begin to dread the coming of Monday.

Monday means commuting to work, high gas prices, making lunch, and the grind of the workday. So Sunday becomes a day of managing my thoughts and stories.

Seeing what is going on in the rest of the world causes me to pause and reconsider my perspective. Over the last few years, I have seen people struggle during the pandemic, facing illness, loss of income, loved ones, etc.

Now each day, we see the gruesome images coming from Ukraine, and I wonder how one man can wield so much power and use it to inflict constant suffering in this day and age.

These events trigger a redirection. I may not enjoy Monday; I may not like long commutes in traffic or high gas prices. But, in the end, I know they are

first-world inconveniences.

I bet that a family escaping Russian soldiers in Ukraine would trade Monday morning traffic in Los Angeles with me. I know that I wouldn't want to be in the situation that people in that country are in, nor would I want to be those families stranded at our Southern Border or anyone else under the pressure of attempting to survive in a hostile climate.

I wish I could do more, and at times all I have are prayers, thoughts, and money to donate, people to listen to. Tears to shed.

I don't know what the proper response to suffering is. I immense guilt when I see all that I have.

I have to a least check myself when I begin to complain and shift my perspective, and maybe find room to be thankful for a long commute and look at Mondays as a gift. Then, I can still enjoy Friday and Saturday. Each day of the week has its bits of pain and its slices of joy if I decide to look for them.

It makes me think maybe joy, happiness, and fulfillment aren't the only thing to pursue. Contribution in the face of suffering, sadness, and anxiety produces meaning. Maybe that is what we can do. We can continue to serve, give, love, and contribute, which is our response to those who inflict pain and suffering. We can do good from our place of influence, and perhaps it will spread.