"Very pretty," said Zaphod petulantly.
In the sky a huge green catalog number appeared. It flickered and changed, and when they looked around again, so had the land.
As with one voice they all went, "Yuck."
The sea was purple. The beach they were on was composed of tiny yellow and green pebbles, presumably terribly precious stones. The mountains in the distance seemed soft and undulating with red peaks. Nearby stood a solid silver beach table with a frilly mauve parasol and silver tassles.
In the sky a huge sign appeared, replacing the catalog number. It said, Whatever your tastes, Magrathea can cater for you. We are not proud.
And five hundred entirely naked women dropped out of the sky on parachutes.
In a moment the scene vanished and left them in a springtime meadow full of cows.
"Ow!" said Zaphod. "My brains!"
"You want to talk about it?" said Ford.
"Yeah, okay," said Zaphod. "Whatever happened to my mind, I did it. And I did it in such a way that it wouldn't be detected by the Government screening tests. And I wasn't to know anything about it myself. Pretty crazy, right?"
The other two nodded in agreement.
"So I reckon, what's so secret that I can't let anybody know I know about it, not the Galactic Government, not even myself? And the answer is I don't know. Obviously. But I put a few things together and I can begin I guess. When did I decide to run for President? Shortly after the death of President Yooden Vranx. You remember Yooden, Ford?"
"Yeah," said Ford, "he was that guy we met when we were kids, the Arcturan captain. He was a gas. He gave us conkers when you bust your way into his megafreighter. Said you were the most amazing kid he'd ever met."
Zaphod has no answers as to why he performed some kind of surgery on his own brains. At the moment, he has only questions. He's still trying to figure things out. In short, he's sort of in the same place I am at the moment.
It was brought to my attention by someone I care about very deeply that my blog posts have become very . . . dark. Depressing to the point of pushing people toward desperate acts. I have taken this observation very much to heart.
One of my favorite books in the Bible is the Book of Psalms. Because it is a collection of poems, and those poems cover almost the entire realm of human emotion, from ecstasy to despair. It deals with the joy of love. The anguish of loss. I can find a psalm for any state my spirit is in. Yet, even in the darkest of the psalms, there is always that reaching toward light at the end. The faith that everything is going to be alright because God is looking out for us. all the time.
Mayhaps, in my dark musings over the last few weeks (months?), I haven't necessarily turned toward the light very much. Today, that changes. I promise to try to rectify my neglect of hope and happiness. I'm not sure how successful I'm going to be at this turning, but I am going to give it the old Walt Whitman try. (Whitman is really good at ecstasy, among other things.)
Today, therefore, I'm going to write a post of gratitude.
This morning, before I went to church to play for the morning service, I brought my son to the local doughnut place. We have made this a ritual this summer. Sunday is doughnut day. Anyway, my son is ten, and he looks forward to this treat a great deal. In the past few weeks, he has gotten the same two doughnuts--one frosted and covered in sprinkles, the other with zebra-striped frosting. (Frosting is the common denominator.)
When I dropped my son off at my mother's house, he had already finished his zebra doughnut, and he looked really happy. Like everything in his life couldn't get any better. And then--presto!--he reaches into his bag and pulls out his sprinkle doughnut, and life is doubly good. His happiness verges on joy every Sunday morning when he walks into the bakery to make his selections.
That is my gratitude post for today. My son's doughnut joy. If everyone took after my son, I think the world would be a much happier place. If I followed his example, I'd be a much happier person. There's something to be said for child-like wonder and contentment. I should cultivate it more in my life.
Sure, life can be really shitty for long periods of time, but remember there's a doughnut shop right up the street. It's got long johns filled with cream, zebra-frosted cake doughnuts, and blueberry scones. Even if you don't buy anything to eat, go to that bakery, stand inside of it, and breathe in the smell. It's your mother's homemade bread at Easter, the birthday cake you had when you turned twelve, the bagels you ate every morning on your vacation to New York City.
Saint Marty is grateful for his son this afternoon, who reminded him about the joy of doughnuts.
Saint Marty is grateful for his son this afternoon, who reminded him about the joy of doughnuts.
So feel this. Things have been really tight lately but Saturday I allowed myself 2 blueberry scones from the bakery. They improved my happiness level considerably. Sometimes simple joys are the things that keep us hanging on.
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