Maybe the game, at least in these dangerous times, is simply about staying alive. Forget anything but survival. And let's be grateful, if we make it until Christmas 2015, that the universe has given us the gift of staying power.
Last night I attended a meeting at a spiritual fellowship. Some members were kvetching about not being happy. Being in debt. Not achieving as much professionally as they might have had they not done this or had done that.
I smirked. It seemed so 20th-century to be consumed with grandiose expectations. Especially for the Baby Boomers at that spiritual center.
For example, we survived ourselves. We were the first generation to embrace sex, drugs and rock and roll. Because of growing affluence we took huge risks with how we made a living. We felt smug about our nest eggs but hadn't planned right. All or much of that vaporized in the two financial crashes of the 21st century. And, the Coca-Puffs kids, we ate much too much sugar.
Yet, here we are. I made it out of the too-expensive New York Metro area to the much more affordable Southwest. I managed to grow out of being the Coca-Puff kid. My communications boutique is thriving. My aggressive rescue dog has mellowed into a lap-curler. In addition, I am among those who didn't off themselves because of severe clinical depression.
In short, the universe has been generous to me. I know it. I choose to be glad, not sad, this Christmas.