Perfectly Imperfect

We will always have the poor with us.

We will always have the haves.
We will always have skirmishes and wars.
We will always have illness and death.
Yet at the end of each day we have a choice.
Do we reside with anger?
Or do we hold Peace within us?
These thoughts always come to mind, nearly every day. What perpetuates them is my own living to do better in thought and action every moment in all of my living. I have been this way since I could remember, as I see every day, every hour, every second as January 1st. Perhaps, the eternal 'goodie-two-shoes' effect brought on by my witnessing of people's hatred, greed and suffering early in life.
We could also suppose it'd arrived from a life we could not remember in years past.
I had a supervisor once accuse me of being so busy that no way could I have time to ponder. I explained to her, "I ponder much." She shook her head in disbelief. My mind had been on automatic-pondering of thoughts. As it always has been.
So, this morning I pondered, where have we been? People appear impatient. Most seem that nothing has changed, at least notbthe way they think it should. And that is humanity, within the soul of humans as a whole. For we still desire what perhaps we shouldn't. Many lie, cheat, lack scruples. Quite a few dictate what their ideas of scruples are. In doing so, they appear to fall short of what it is to be accepting as perfectly imperfect.
Quite often I'd wondered if humanity will better itself. However, the truth I'd found was written many times in all sorts of frameworks over the millenia. Too, it had been announced during the beginning of United States ofAmerica: "Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom must, like men, undergo the fatigue of supporting it." ---Thomas Paine, September 12, 1777
I will add '...too must, like women and men, undergo the fatigue of supporting all rights regardless of race, color, creed, sexual orientation, gender and so forth. That is in order to have the blessings of freedom.'
This is where I now stand in perhaps my final days, maybe years of life. As I am Perfectly Imperfect. ---Jody-Lynn Reicher

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