Our time on this Earth is precious. It's the only chance to leave something behind.

Time is currency. Time that continues steadily, unremarkably, goldenly; yet, it holds drama, drama to make grandmothers blush, to make mountain lions (cougars) scatter, to make historians pour bleach on their stories. It's that bad. I mean, drama usually is bad. Drama ruins time.

We don't want drama. We don't want flat tires, broken marriages, bombs blowing up the neighborhood. We don't want graffiti on park rocks. We don't want empty soda cans on trails, on streets, on sidewalks, anywhere on unaccompanied ground.

You see, drama disturbs whatever equilibrium you've attained within your world. Suddenly it gets clogged in the drain. Or stuck in the garbage disposal. Peace loses the "permanency" test.

That truth keeps repeating itself. Though the plan is - as if we have one, we wish one - a plan that establishes permanent peace is the next one.

This Earth, this place in time, this permanent place, just not for its inhabitants, this home for generations later of human beings. If it could want something, if a place could have human wishes, this earthly home would want peace.

No more rebuilding. No more cleaning up man-made destruction. The drama the Earth absorbs over and over again. I think it suffers anxiety attacks, a syndrome of what struck fear before will strike again, and the "again" will strike unexpectedly.

The earth and trees and countrysides find comfort in the cessation of war and drama. Plant life regenerates; animal life repopulates; water ripples and cleanses its own streams; air returns to freshness. The Earth is good at that. Does it forget the memories of prior shocks?

Time on Earth will tell. Drama gets forgotten, not repeatable. The precious moments you and I are breathing oxygen on this lovely Earth... well, it is precious time. To leave something new behind. Permanent peace.

July 8, 2026 10:17 AM


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