It’s raining again. If I post something each time we have a rainy day, I’ll get nothing else done. Interesting that more days are rain-free, but the rainy ones summon my muse. I really need that muse to be scouting for topics rather than urging me to write something.

I’ve been avoiding topics that frustrate or distress me. Misuse of the language doesn’t count; that’s ever-present. I don’t want to talk about politics, the Vikings stadium, people who use guns to cause far-reaching ripple effects in families and communities, young people who are teased beyond their capacity to tolerate the short-sighted cruelty of their peers, billions spent on presidential campaigns, dishonesty for personal gain without regard for lives of those adversely affected.

I think about the obesity epidemic in our country, and about young girls whose self-esteem necessitates creating body types that are unnaturally thin and less attractive than they imagine. Some young people spend more time with computer games and cell phone text messages than they do exercising their minds and bodies in healthy ways.

Then after I’ve thought about the things I don’t want to write about, I admit that my age is showing. In a perfect world helping people who can’t help themselves would become a popular diversion. Instead of saying we’re concerned about the environment, the forests, the rivers, animals and birds whose habitats are under assault, people would do something about it.

When the rain abates, the sun will shine again. Despair will go into seclusion for a time. The birds will once again sing outside my windows, and I’ll turn my attention to peaceful thoughts. My life does have resilience.