small electric fan blowing from the floor Tuesday evening

With all that I write from all that I experience and contemplate I exist in the knowledge that life is good- for me. I also exist in the knowledge that I have extraordinarily tiny wrists. Or, maybe it is just that my hands are so perfunctorily square that my wrists are bystanders in a sort of optical illusion. The point, as I see it, is that I was born in a fairly free situation in life.
I have access to clean water, as of now. I have access to all manner of education- though that means being indebted for all time- I have the option to learn anything. I have access to knowledge and learning in every waking second. I can pay for food to be prepared for me, served to me, and all my dishes cleaned up- food from hundreds of cultures and culinary traditions. I have fast and private transportation. When gas becomes redonkulously priced or scarce- I will most likely have access to bicycles and rollerskates. I have health care. I have health care. That's crazy! Life is good, for me, for now.

My inner workings wrestle with the eminent possibility that all of these externals will flee.

We ARE all just one paycheck, one accident, one foot's slip away from poverty and deprivation. From losing all. (and possibly physical life.)

That is what I wrestle with. What I incessantly write about- conversing with myself as in a state of war.

I have food. I have shelter. I have running and clean water. I have access to physicians and medicine; natural medicine adn healing practices. I know how to read and write. I know how to work to decipher falsehood from what is true. I know that I do not know everything (even when I am bent on expounding otherwise- old habits...). I know that mine is not the ultimate and only valid view- nor is my culture's, nor society's view. Nor is any one else's, nor any other culture's nor society's.

That's all I have so far.