Texas and Defining Tranquility

Texas and Defining Tranquility

 

I remember back in my working days watching a football game on Sunday afternoon and feeling guilty because I was doing nothing productive.  Now I look back and recognize the symptom of workaholism.  Well, I’ve come a long ways toward conquering my addiction to work and toward achieving a more tranquil life.

My definition of tranquility this morning is to turn the deck chair around so that the winter sun warms my back while I slowly snack on a leg of cold, mesquite-flavored, chicken.  I look up through the winter-bared branches of the Black Jack, Post Oak, and White Ash trees at a small wisp of cloud floating slowly across the pale blue sky.  In a distance, I hear the faint call of a crow.  Otherwise, all is silent.  A Carolina Wren searches the woodpile for whatever Carolina Wrens search for and all is well in the world. 

Now, don’t get me wrong here.  I have only the greatest admiration for folks of all ages that maintain the drive to be productive members of our wonderful civilization.  We really need industrious, hard-working folks.  But maybe my Dad was at least partially right when he woke me (after a night of carousing) about 8:30 AM to inform me that I was a lazy, good-for-nothing, loafer.

So, what is your definition of tranquility today?

 

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