Warm cup, cold world


Warm cup, cold world

No matter what the weather, my mornings begin with the same ritual.

In my recliner, gazing into the break of daylight, I sip my hot cup of coffee.  My intention is to allow no thoughts or flashing images from the previous day to creep in.  

I alot an hour for this reverie then warm up my computer, ready to face the headlines of our cold world.  What brutish news has been given world attention for today?  At least my computer  allows my critical mind to assess the meaning and impact of each story, whereas the TV ignores my existence and rants on incessantly.  Occasionally I leave comments online for my fellow world travelers.  

On the sidelines of my cyberspace newspaper, I find little niceties of life, but I must be willing to leave the front page and hope that the downloading process will not take too long.  These side-column articles are written with far less conviction and emotion.   Disappointed, I return to the detailed and salacious accounts of my cold world.  

Brutal reality  trumps any spiritual consolations that I may have had.  Media manipulates my view of the day ahead.  Ritual has become addiction.

 

 

 

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