Today was a lot like life. I couldn't summon much energy, but I plodded on regardless: weeded the garden, cut the grass, trimmed to grass, got the patio furniture out, washed an outside window, barbequed supper, and went for a post-supper walk (for the benefit of my health). I just did it: kept putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling wearily from one task to the next. When I tally it up, by employing certain amount of willpower and a modicum of determination, I accomplished a lot despite my lassitude.
Today was a lot like life. I am a plodder. No great talents here, but I plod onward, trying my hand at this thing and that thing: often achieving competence but never reaching the giddy heights of brilliance.
Truth be told, I'm a tiny bit proud of being a plodder. I think that it means that I have fortitude and determination: that I am willing to forge ahead, to try to be the best that I can be.
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to think with the brain of a genius, to move with the grace of a dancer, to run with the speed and endurance of the gifted athlete. If I could choose one true gift to possess, really possess, it would probably be to sing: to sing well enough to entertain, enthrall and evoke. But none of those things are to be my lot in life, and I must try to appreciate these great gifts in others and the small gifts that are mine.