What a strange world I live in. I sit here in my lovely, very well appointed (if entirely too messy) living room, reading a book (a true story) about how a 35-year-old woman finds love and balance - yes, and sex - half way around the world, in Bali of all places. I wonder at the cruelty and the greed of this world as I hold on to my prayer beads and look hard at the Crucifix on the end, trying to figure out a little more about life than I already know. There is no answer of course. No answer per se, other than it is the journey, not the destination, that is the thing - the one thing - we must do correctly.
I think of how spoiled I am and how frivolous I've become, utterly extravagant, letting money spill through my fingers as if grown on those trees in my own back yard. And I wonder how it all came to pass - my being in this ridiculous, cheapened state when the vast majority of the world is going without - without food, without clothes, without freedom, without education, without life.
No, life isn't fair. Not at all.
Jan Fursdon
