Penny For Your Fucks?

1-20-13 hunt, Barber dime 015 (Small)

I have a confession to make – I give fucks. Lots of them. I mostly always have.

When I was younger you could tell how many fucks I gave by how loudly I pronounced that I didn’t. These days I’ve learned that when I give them for free and for fun I understand that they will be given in return. Maybe not directly from the person or cause I aimed my fucks at, but the Universe notices and reciprocates. The problem is in the specificity of my fucks given. If I insist that they only come back to me in just the ways and from just the folks I want them, well, I’m fucked. People don’t work like that.
But if I’m busy shouting loudly just how many fucks I’m not giving I’ll receive a pile of pity fucks that will bounce right off because I’m actually so full of fucks that I can’t possibly eat another one. And pity fucks taste funny anyway.

It turns out that fucks are a lot like the penny dish at the checkout stand; need a fuck, take a fuck! Got one to spare, leave a fuck! You don’t know who it might help. But I always walk away feeling a little better when I give a fuck and don’t worry so much about who’s taking. It comes back to me when I’m not looking.

If I spend all my time worrying about who might take my fucks I will see threats to my fucks everywhere. If I give them freely I won’t notice you threatening my fucks because it’s inconsequential. I will however notice all the different ways my fellows gently give their fucks too. Inspiring a friendly fuck feeding frenzy. It turns out that fucks are self replicating. It all depends on my fucking focus.

The Vivid, Shining, Warmth of Right this Fucking Now

We often promise to live life more fully, to stay in touch, to love one another more significantly as we gather for a friend’s funeral. A promise faded by life’s duties. Nearly dying myself created a sea change in me. Carpe Diem became not so much a shouted bravado but rather a quietly pulling current motivating everything I did from that day forward. Creating a richness I would have previously slept through in case something better might happen tomorrow. Interestingly it wasnt my medical dramas that sparked my initial resolve. It was the near death of a shattered heart that inspired me to live every day as if it were my last – enriched tenfold by living it as if it might be your last too. For it was my misinterpretation of what Love was that sent me crashing in the first place. Love isnt as it turns out only reserved for that Special One. It is for everyone I share my life with, if even just for a day. 
Trust me, the Special One will appreciate the lack of smothering.