A friend asked me today, “How are you in general?” during our conversation.
I answered, “I don’t know. I am functioning. I am at least able to carry out my daily chores. So that’s good enough for me.”
I have such low expectation of myself, don’t I?
But if you have ever suffered clinical depression, you would understand the significance of being able to say that you are able to function at a level that allows your daily life possible. Your least existence is… a miracle.
Just like anyone during this period of a global pandemic, I, too, find myself avoiding the grocery store as much as I can. I am mostly assured that by this point almost all of the households have green onions growing in a pot. Oh, please enlighten me if this is only an Asian pandemic. (And if you are not doing this yet, you should! Any green onions with roots will grow back if you put them on top of a watered paper towel).
Just look how effortless they grow, these green onions. They function. They do so well with a little bit of water in a recycled can.
That is what I strive for.
That might be all I am capable of.
And so what.
That’s the way I am.