Boj (no relationship to Job, I assure you) had it rough. Just ask him, and he would eagerly relate the apparent woes of his life. He was cursed, he was certain. Habitually he thought about, and spoke about, all that was wrong. To him, every day seemed a chore, a battle to be endured from dawn to dusk. He didn’t just believe in Murphy’s Law; he had been the inspiration for its first draft. Boj was infamous for his uncontrollable tirades. It never dawned on Boj that if he changed positively within, that the so-called world without could improve, as a reflection of that change.
When circumstances went wrong, as they often did for Boj, his usual way of reacting was a version of the following performance: With his face reddening with building pressure, Boj would bend down into a deep squat (as though gathering energy from Mother Earth), and then spring upward onto his tippy-toes. At the apex of the spike, with his head convulsing from side to side like a ravenous lion, he would roar:
Dam# iT# al&L tH#E waY to $he%Ll and #ba$%%^k! Swee#T Ffly#%ing #fU@g%-a- doodle!
This lifE i$ one #h3!! of a RuFf bu##ggnng ride!
It was on one of these not-so-sweet occasions, that his neighbour, better known as Granny Goodadvice, approached him and softly said, “Having a rough one, Boj?”
“What was your first clue?” asked Boj, with a scowl.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Granny, with a subtle grin. “A little birdie tol’ me so.”
“So, what of it?” asked Boj.
“Well, I just wanted to share some advice, in case it could be some service to you.” Granny, who was ninety-nine according to neighbours, waggled her index finger at BoJ, with a come-here-sonny look.”
When Boj had moved closer, she leaned close and whispered: “At one time, I was also no stranger to cursing. I knew all of the curse bombs, and I dropped them haphazardly everywhere I went. I could unload great big A-bombs, and strafe the atmosphere with rat-a-tat tat machine-gun ones. But one day, a dear brave soul approached me and tol’ me that my life would improve if I started expressing sincere gratitude…from my heart.”
“That’s it!?” exclaimed Boj. “That’s your great pearl of wisdom?!”
“Uh, huh,” said Granny, with a nod. “Yup, that’s it.”
“And just what,” said Boj, with a scowl, “do you think that I have for which to be grateful?”
Granny squinted like the Clint Eastwood fan she was and said, “Your life, sonny. Your very life.” And with that, she turned and ambled back to her home. It was time to watch her afternoon soap opera.
Dare to Dream (and care for one another).
With heartfelt regards,
Copyright © – 2022 – R. Arthur Russell
P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. My YouTube videos may be found through this link. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. 🙏🧡