I think that most human beings get less out of life than they put in; than they deserve for their efforts, in fact. This makes me rather wary of homilies such as the title of this blog. So why, then, that title? Well because, in my case (and so far) my life gets better as I get older; not something that I’d anticipated.
Now, according to one website I looked at, on my income alone, I’m in the top 0.45% in the world’s population. Taking other considerations into account, ie, where I live, family circumstance, well being, etc., I’m probably above even that. On a personal level, without being too condescending, I don’t think I’d swap with anyone I know; but, then, perhaps they wouldn’t swap with me either. As I explain to people, I go to bed with my best friend at night and wake up next to her in the morning. Moreover, we’ve now been together for 27 years and married for 22 of those. A timescale that beats any other relationship, apart from that with my eldest children, by a long way. It’s not what I ever expected and it feels very, very good. Which is my roundabout way of saying that life is pretty good.
So, do I count me blessing? Well, not quite. For a start, it’s a bit like chancing fate, something I’m always loathe to do. Secondly, it’s difficult to do that when the world I live in is in such a parlous state. And, yes, I know that historically, that may not be so, especially compared to the 14th century, once dubbed “the worst century ever”. However, it sure feels like it at times. So, my overriding feeling is one of anger.
Anger for a world that could be, anger for a new generation with the wilful destruction of its hope, its lack of opportunity and optimism. At which point, I turn to a wonderful poem. This one “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas. It seems more apposite that “Count your blessings”. Even though I do; every day.