Best wishes!   I have just a few thoughts on the best way to spend time and money.  It seems we are pretty much part of the economy and social demand – especially of those with power.  Sometimes this is a great thing – If we have food, shelter, and a good quality of life.  At other times, when we don’t fit in, we need to work hard to make ourselves productive.  When productivity that consistently increases other’s quality of life is not recognized with reward – there seems to be some failure in the system.  This microcosm may be hard to detect, but in the macrocosm, disparity must be recognized.  The insight of those that are in the positions of less power to affect their own outcomes, needs to be addressed.  It is important to consider that even a person who lives in poverty may have potentially great skills and attributes to contribute to society – that is not recognized, because it is not convenient to develop them.  Those without the skills have needs similar to anyone else and we must work together to help everyone have their needs met.

Spend Wisely

Shudder to think of all the wasted time,

Yet the play, the music, the art, and rhyme,

Allows the freedom to work for money,

Without peaceful moments or skies sunny,

There is no patience, no progress or goals,

Pushing for the reward can takes its tolls,

Seems best to have a friend to rely on,

To have a person’s shoulder to cry on,

A guitar for picking, to strum, or express,

Radios to play music that feels best,

TV is there, with a dog or a cat,

I never end my own internal chat,

Yes there is a time to get down to work,

I never avoid it, I will not shirk,

If I raise one soul’s quality of life,

Denying I’m working is the true strife,

Who is hired to make this world better?

Sign me up now, I’m a real go-getter,

When the sky crashes on a poor artist,

Have mercy to ask, ‘why did I start this?’

Was it to make money that creates peace?

That is cool – the best and please never cease,

But for money you can’t think how to spend,

Think again, ‘what ways, and what love can I send?’