The Weekly Good/ The Good Series

You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be someone who hates peaches.
— Dita Von Teese

I've been in the habit, these last few months, of posting my daily good on Facebook. It was hard at first and sometimes I could not find it, or I was worried it would seem small and trite. But I learned to appreciate the action of looking for it. After a while, it became easier to find. But I would lose these moments of good after I posted them, and decided I should bring them here, to my internet home. Now I can find them whenever I need to be reminded of them.

Finding the good and sharing it publically is a personal act. For it to be authentic, is has to be a bit raw and unwieldy.

So here's the first good on the website, here forever:

It's cold this morning: I can see my breath, even in my apartment. Peaches are in order. Peaches that are perfect and dewy and lushly scented. Peaches, that to me, look perfect. But to someone else who is accustomed to finding blemishes, they are imperfect, and they call attention to that faint bruising. To me, that outline of a bruise makes it sweeter...

"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches." -Dita Von Teese

 Couple of things I learned this week:

1. Not everyone is going to like you, or the things you do.

2. It doesn't matter.

3. No, really, it doesn't matter.

When you have a passion for something and you love it--whether it's writing or something else---some people aren't going to get it. And the more visionary you are about things, the more derision and apathy will show up. But it has very little to do with you.

Recently, I had  a swift and intensely painful lesson in this, and it affected me for the better part of a week. I had to think about it for awhile. I had to write about it, and wrote a long, messy meandering essay and set it aside: fodder for some future characters I will write, perhaps. But most likely, I'll cast it into the fire, which burns a multitude of hurts and turns them into something warm. And I will sit in this warm room, cozy and safe, and just continue what I do best: finding the good and writing it down. The rest of it doesn't matter.