The Unimportance of Importance

Last night I dreamed about how I used to think it was important to do something important, but now I understand that doing something important isn’t what’s important at all. In a virtual world where opinions are spouted without consideration for consequences to others’ differences, and with so little tolerance in the mix, just being kind is monumental. In a world full of snap judgments, tolerance is more important than ¬†recognition. Before judging, realization of how little one really knows might be considered. One never knows what others are thinking or what they actually know, and trying to find out isn’t important. I guess I finally understand that blogging is sharing with everyone letters one writes to oneself. By the way, I’m still working on Five Flowers (novel) and Child of the Universe (poetry). I just understand how, in the overall scheme of things, it’s not important, and that’s why I’ll keep working.

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