ON CONTENTMENT

A particular ailment seems to inevitably burden all small communities: contentment. We suffer a fever of satisfaction in the order of the cars going by, in the sturdiness of the walls, and the hue of the lawn. And in what things we do not find satisfaction, we forfeit to a plaintive and forlorn acceptance.

It is this very thing I fight when I force myself to go out on a day I would rather stay in or answer calls I would rather not take. I want to contribute to the world around me. I want to plant the trees, not just eat of the fruit others harvested. Who knows, maybe when that tree is big enough and sturdy enough, I could confidently carve my initials into it as testament decades from now that "Betty Smith was HERE" right here, 30 trunk rings and three whole feet ago.

It takes much effort, and it's more of a rolling cube than a smooth ball. It will go down the hill, but it won't build its own momentum. It needs a constant heavy force. I do what I can. I shake many hands, I join many committees, and I serve on several boards. But I am under no delusion that this is in any way particularly important. I am not planting any trees. I am just helping shovel the dirt. Oh but one day! 

I can do little now about the state of the school board, the construction on the roads, or how my city rates on national surveys. But I am finding that there seems to be no such thing as an "emotional middle class" in Beaumont. People are either very happy, community aware, and generally optimistic; or as aforementioned, have settled begrudgingly into a strong complacency. Unfortunately, we are being defined by this painfully high rate of emotional poverty. This is something I feel I may have a chance at affecting in the here-and-now; with an army of friends both at my back, as well as leading me into battle. My vote may hold the value of 1/118,228 but my ideas have the potential to sway hundreds. YOUR ideas. YOU can sway hundred in the very same way. Make your ideas KNOWN!

Nothing will ever change if you do not. And seldom will your ideas come to life if you do not plant a seed. Do not be the one to wait for someone else to do that. Here's to the Dreamers.

“If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer
If you're a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin
Come in! Come in!” 

Shell Silverstein

Dreams for the future, 

Betty