I shall not participate in "Blog Day" the way that they prescribe - for that is celebrating the unusual.
Blogging began as a way for folks to express their everyday thoughts. the Web Log is akin to an online public diary.
And as we all know diaries are quite mundane.
Many folks are too intimidated to start their own blog because they fear that they have nothing unusual to say - - .
I am among them.
So today let's blog about brushing our teeth and combing our hair.
Let's celebrate fumbling around in our pocket for the right key.
For indeed it is a wonderful thing that our fingers can be thrust into a small dark space and make the distinction between lint, and leather, and then touch a cool piece of metal.
Our fingers know the difference between that flat aluminum key fob, left over from the last time we brought our car to the mechanic, and the rough peaks and valleys of a key.
Our fingers can sense the general size and shape of the key we are searching for.
Yes - let's give praise for our fingers - and for pockets - and for keys.
Especially for the keys since they can open the doors...
______________________________________________
The sun rises every morning. I do not rise every morning; but the variation is due not to my activity, but to my inaction. Now, to put the matter in a popular phrase, it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they especially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony . . . .
The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore. . . .
Repetition may go on for millions of years, by mere choice, and at any instant it may stop. Man may stand on the earth generation after generation, and yet each birth be his positively last appearance.
GK Chesterton - Orthodoxy
