The Man Who Looked Away
George lived in a small Missouri town where everyone had an opinion about politics. Every diner booth, every barstool, every church basement seemed to echo with shouting about left, right, blue, red. People argued as if the fate of the universe hinged on their hot take.
But George discovered something radical: he just… stopped caring. He didn’t hate anyone for their views, didn’t waste his breath on debates. He simply tuned it out like static on a ham-radio frequency.
Instead, he filled his days with things that mattered. He photographed flowers pushing through the cracks of sidewalks. He walked trails along the Blue River. He wrote stories about time-traveling truckers and mysterious owls that never blinked. He checked in with friends, made a point to laugh daily, and kept his hands busy with projects that left him smiling when the sun went down.
While others lost sleep over headlines, George slept peacefully. His life became rich—not because he ignored the world, but because he chose the part of the world that fed his spirit instead of draining it.
The Daily Reminder
The TV shouts, the radios scream,
Headlines rattle like a bad dream.
Every corner, every street,
Politics pounding its restless beat.
So I whisper, soft but true,
“There’s something better I can do.”
A river walk, a flower’s face,
A quiet hour, a gentler space.
It isn’t easy, the noise is loud,
Like circus barkers pulling a crowd.
But I turn away, I choose my ground,
Where joy and peace are still around.
The world can argue, rage, and fight—
I’ll chase the geese in morning light.
Remind myself with each new day:
Life is bigger than what they say.
