Redtree Times

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one ; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap ; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. And also the only real tragedy in life is the being used by personally minded men for purposes which you recognize to be base. All the rest is at worst mere misfortune or mortality: this alone is misery, slavery, hell on earth.

–George Bernard Shaw, dedication to Man and Superman (1903)

I’d like to think that I don’t complain much. I bet most people who complain all the time feel they don’t complain much so I might be wrong about that. I’ve been wrong so many times when I thought I was right that I am never surprised when I say something that is immediately proven wrong.

All I can do is take the loss and move on. No complaints.

I’d also like to think that all my losses are mine, caused by me alone. And here I don’t think I am wrong. Any losses or misfortunes I’ve suffered were the result of poor decisions and actions.  

And again, all I can do is take the loss and move on. No complaints.

For me, the only acceptable complaining is when it is on behalf of others when trying to correct injustices or imbalances.  

I guess then I would be called a complainer. We should all be complainers so that we might right the real wrongs of this world that are overwhelmingly being caused by people of incredible privilege parading as victims, endlessly complaining and blaming others for the imagined offenses they have suffered.  

Was that complaint? Could be. I might be a complainer or maybe not. Could be both. Like Uncle Walt Whitman says in Song of Myself:

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

In the end, we are probably more of everything we think we’re not and less of what we think we are.

Here’s a couple of songs from singer/songwriter Todd Snider. The first is a song Can’t Complain which pertains here for obvious reasons. Snider is a wonderful storyteller with a droll and goofy delivery that appears in both his lyrics and the monologues that often accompany them. The second, If Tomorrow Never Comes, is great example of this. The painting above, Deep Right Field, actually has some relevance if you listen to the second song.  I found myself laughing at the second song because his don’t-bug-me-and-just-let-me-do-my-own-thing attitude was so familiar to me. Both songs were recorded at a House Concert in Boulder, CO.