September 5: Fake a Question, Small Miracles, New Shoes

An emergency has just begun on Magrathea . . .

The two mice sniffed irritably round the fragments of their glass transports where they lay shattered on the floor.  "Damnation," muttered Frankie mouse, "all that fuss over two pounds of Earthling brain."  He scuttled round and about, his pink eyes flashing, his fine white coat bristling with static.  "The only thing we can do now," said Benjy, crouching and stroking his whiskers in thought, "is to try and fake a question, invent one that will sound plausible."

What do you do when life doesn't necessarily go your way?  Well, if you're two white mice from another dimension, you decide to fabricate a story (and a question to the Ultimate Answer) that will save face.  Yes, even aliens will lie through their whiskers to get what they want.

My life has gone a little off course in the last four or so months.  I'm not not living the dream at the moment.  I've been pretty forthright about that with my friends and family and the disciples of this blog.  The summer of 2019 will not go down in the record books of Saint Marty as being particularly happy.  In fact, if I could fast forward to December 31st right now, I would.  Bring on "Auld Lang Syne."  Of course, because I'm not an interdimensional rodent, I am not able to time leap, which is disappointing.

So, what to do?

I was having a text conversation with a friend a little while ago.  He, also, has been dealing with some personal struggles, and he told me that he has been going for long morning walks to combat depression and anxiety.  On those walks, he tries to take note of the small miracles he encounters.  Birds.  Trees.  People.  Landmarks.  Every step on these walks, my friend said, is a step toward recovery and wholeness.

I love the idea of these walks.  They're an exercise in awareness.  Keeping your eyes and heart open in order to encounter God's grace.  Because, in reality, I think we all go through most of our days with blinders on, passing the miracles God sends our way without even noticing.

One of the things that I did recently that still makes me really happy is not quite so . . . unselfish.  In fact, I think you could call the pleasure I experience almost materialistic and silly.  However, for some reason, this one act gives me joy on a daily basis.  I bought a new pair of shoes.

I spoke to my therapist about the pleasure I derive from these shoes, and she laughed.  She said it was an act of self-care.  "You were doing something for you," she said.  "There's nothing wrong with that.  And if it involves shoes, all the better."  My therapist has a thing for shoes, just like me.

So, tonight, I'm going to tell you that shoes can be a source of joy.  The pair I purchased were on clearance, and, when I walk in them, they somehow remind me not to be so serious.  To take care of myself.  To find happiness and blessings every day in my life.

Saint Marty is walking his way toward wholeness, in a really nice, comfortable, dressy tennis shoes.