Self-Esteem and the Real Value of Life

Abby and I planted this peace rose earlier this spring.
Abby and I planted this peace rose earlier this spring.
I have peaches on my trees this year, which aren't pretty (because I don't use pesticides), but which taste great and are beautiful to watch grow.
I have peaches on my trees this year, which aren’t pretty (because I don’t use pesticides), but which taste great and are beautiful to watch grow.

I had an epiphany recently when my wife Abby and I were watching some politically-charged testimony regarding Donald Trump. Frustrated and angry, Abby said, “Trump doesn’t care about anyone but himself!”

Then it hit me. No he doesn’t. People who really care about themselves are emotionally whole enough to care about humanity. People who care about themselves understand that we are all part of the same world, that we all depend on each other, that without each other and our fragile planet we are nothing, and that we are all mortal.

Donald Trump is a sociopath. He feels neither empathy nor sympathy. He doesn’t understand love or meaning. His life is empty.

Rain clings to clover in the front yard. We have enjoyed ample rain this spring.
Rain clings to clover in the front yard. We have enjoyed ample rain this spring.

Two song lyrics are stuck in my head this week, both brought to me by internet radio ambient/chillout channels, both by Sia, about whom I know little except I like her etherial voice…

“Living in your head
Without anything to numb you
Living on the edge
Without anything to numb you…” ~Numb

and

“Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, I’m needy
Warm me up and breathe me…” ~Breathe Me

A mimosa blossom, a welcome harbinger of summer, shines in late afternoon light in my orchard.
A mimosa blossom, a welcome harbinger of summer, shines in late afternoon light in my orchard.
Abby's iPhone plays SiriusXM Radio through her stereo in the living room.
Abby’s iPhone plays SiriusXM Radio through her stereo in the living room.

I got Abby hooked up to listen to SiriusXM streaming at home, so there is country music in the house frequently now. Though I am not a country music fan, its sound is 1500% better than the prattle of television.

Ploughing through my journal from 1993 looking for mention of something I was trying to recall, I came across several interesting items.

“I’m going to start listening to my thoughts. Lately I’ve been finding them to be much too violent and petty. I’m looking for the silence, the nothingness, the emptiness that can set me free. Eventually it all comes down to this reality now. Too often I’m lost in fantasy and conjecture, the past and the future. I’m looking for NOW. I think I’ll become a nowist.” ~Journal, November 1993

I colored my beard last night, and got it about right. I'm getting pretty good at it.
I colored my beard last night, and got it about right. I’m getting pretty good at it.

“Kathy was very hard to get along with this weekend. She reminds me of my hurtingmost times in 1988-89. I hungered to be with people, to be soothed by their company. But at the same time, that hunger drove them away.” ~Journal, November 1993

I was flying all the time in those days, and we weren’t always mad at the President.

A friend of mine died this week from injuries she sustained when she was kidnapped and assaulted in January, meaning she was murdered. I am horrified and baffled, but I feel that somehow these feelings are naive. In any case, she is in my thoughts.

Hawken the Irish Wolfhound is tall enough at the shoulder to eat with his dish in the seat of a chair. He is strong, majestic, beautiful.

Hawken takes his supper on a chair now that he is tall enough at the shoulder to reach it.
Hawken takes his supper on a chair now that he is tall enough at the shoulder to reach it.
On the grill last night was hamburgers for Abby, veggie dogs for me, and roasted vegetables for both of us.
On the grill last night was hamburgers for Abby, veggie dogs for me, and roasted vegetables for both of us.

It is warm but not hot on the patch these days, and we have gotten healthy rain.

I cooked out last night.

It is also the season for fruit, which I feel is far more nutritious than, well, almost anything.

It is with all these things in mind that I am grateful for my life.

I know I post a lot of images like this one, but they never cease to be beautiful to me.
I know I post a lot of images like this one, but they never cease to be beautiful to me.
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3 Comments

  1. Lovely writing, outstanding photography. A pleasure. We’re talking about coming out.

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  2. Purple is your color. It flatters me, too.

    I’m meh on fruit. Vegetables, on the other hand…love them. Cannot get enough. Am driven crazy by their also-ran status at most restaurants.

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