I suppose you could call me consumed, obsessed or something, but when I’m having a good time, bad time, or so-so time, I’m often wondering what eternal message I may be staring at . . . but missing.
A couple weeks ago I stood belly-deep in the bath-water surf in Clearwater, Florida, fishing pole in hand. Somewhere out in the surf, maybe twenty yards or so, was a tiny baitfish, tethered to my pole, hook through his middle, fighting to escape the inevitable.
My good friends Gene, George, and William were close by, similarly outfitted.
It came to me as I watched pelicans and gulls all around me (much better at fishing than I) that the creature world, both in the sea and in the woods, is pretty focused. Whether you’re wearing scales or fur, be you bear or tarpon, your Franklin Planner motto for the day will read the same as it did yesterday, and it will read the same tomorrow: Eat and don’t get eaten.
It seems to me that the Creator extended the option of a higher plane for we humans: feed and be fed.
On a very simple level, have you ever noticed how different food tastes after you’ve first served up a generous portion to a hungry person. I think mothers and fathers who cook may enjoy food most. Do you suppose?
Feed and be fed.
Unfortunately, we seem often to want to remain the creatures of the sea and woods: eat, consume, devour . . . and watch your back.
What a miserable way to live!
Glad we could get together.
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