In an effort to wring some meaning out of my days before I spend my mornings grunting at the newspaper (not the print version, but I fear, after a week with my parents, the senior citizen impulse will persist) about how the world has gone to hell in a handbasket, I've devised a few questions I ask myself on Friday evenings as I pour myself a glass of grape and ponder my activities, if I can recall them, from the past seven days. I'll share my perspective on each in the posts to follow.
- When I wake up in the morning, what is my first thought about the day before me?
- Is there at least one thing I look forward to doing every day?
- Are there rituals in my life that consistently bring me fulfillment?
- Do I have the energy to do the things I wish I could do?
- When I think about my goals, are they something I can reach within two years, or are they "someday" ideas?