Who doesn’t love balls?

I recently bought my grandson a ball. It was a biggish one – about a foot and a half in diameter – and bouncy as all get out. It’s blue with baseball stitching and he loves it. He carries it everywhere, though it almost entirely obscures him, throws it on hard surfaces and giggles when it bounces away, and rolls it in every direction. It has brought a great deal of pleasure for about the cost of a cup of coffee. I chanced to pick it up this morning. Holding it stationary felt wrong so I bounced it one. Then I did it again. I dribbled it for a minute before bouncing it off a nearby door for a quick game of catch with myself. As I grabbed it and held it up to my chest, I wondered: what is it about a ball?

Why do we believe what we do?

...Why some people believe the things they do has always been a mystery to me, but the article got me thinking: why do I believe the things I believe? The answer turns out to be, because it suits me to. My beliefs comfort me, whether or not they are accurate. Unfortunately, my beliefs don’t always serve me well. We all like to think we think the best thoughts. We all think our points of view are the best and most correct. Unfortunately, we can’t all be right. It’s a frustration, but it’s true...

why not me?

I used to ask, “why me?” frequently. It seemed to me my lot in life was unfair. It seemed the amount of suffering I endured was disproportionately harsh compared to my peers. Of course, I didn’t stop to think that compared to others in this world, my life was relatively easy and trouble-free. Still, where we live is our reality; comparisons are pointless. So is asking “why me?”

Am I in control of my goals?

"“It doesn’t matter what the external things is, the value we place on it subjugates us to another…where our heart is set, there our impediment lies.” - Epictetus “When it comes to your goals and the things you strive for, ask yourself: Am I in control of them or they in control of me?” I have a journal with writing prompts that I try to get to every day. It’s not to be confused with my regular journal, or the gratitude journal that sits beside my bed. In my quest for mental stability and calmness, I do a lot of writing..."

who am I? – existential angst.

"I don’t find it surprising that I suffer from existential crises. I find it surprising there are people who don’t. I envy them their contentment, their unquestioning approach to life, their ability to put aside the big questions that plague me, the “who am I and why am I here and what is the purpose of my existence” questions that have always been a part of my existence..."