The story stays the same. The story never changes.
Perhaps there are amoebas, developing in several areas on earth, long long ago.
Some of them are near volcanoes, which erupt , decimating them.
Others are far from volcanoes, and do fine. They slowly and surely evolve.
Some of us are born with certain circumstances or color of skin or ethnic backgrounds or size of feet or quality of hair or color of eyes or tone of voice or mineralization of teeth enamel or safety of neighborhood or articulation of vocabulary or capacity to understand mathematics or crabbiness of personality or enormous impatience and irritability.
And so we each go forth, into our small tidal pools, with ice cream truck ringing or gunshots punctuating the night or reams of traffic polluting our air or coal dust landing indiscriminately upon all things or pesticided fine-tuned lawns or vast elegant country clubs or great opportunities or elementary schools with not enough paper or pencils or chairs.
We are all here. It all happens this way.
And from the beginning of time, some people opportunistically benefit from the misfortune of others. While others work tirelessly to share and ensure that there is parity. That there are the most equal rights and justice for all.
And far within this woven tapestry of life here on this planet earth, so many things happen.
And so eventually, sooner or later, in each of our lives, be we an ant or bear, or oak tree, or human, eventually we learn two things.
We learn to deal with what we are given, the very best we are able; to grow and prosper best we can, where we are planted.
And we learn to give thanks. In any fashion that comes deep into us, and speaks to us, in life's sonorous tones.
Sooner or later, like the amoeba, we might evolve enough to feel the pull and the call, to give thanks, every day, with our whole heart and soul, for whatever it is that we have been given.
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