Where the Author Begins to Describe His Motivation

It’s funny. The words flow so easily from my lips when I’m talking with others about this. But now, it’s hard to know where to begin.  I’m not using this blog as a means of convincing anyone, and I’m certainly not sounding the alarm.  I’m no Paul Revere. Nor am I Buckminster Fuller.

Fact is, I feel like my life needs some meaning, and I’m starting to discover what that may be.  I think that one of the reasons that it is so hard to be happy in this society, this culture, is because I see that there could be a better way for me to do things – for myself, for others – and I’m not doing it.  I’m not sure yet what this way will be, but I can definitely say what it is not, and that is business as usual.  If you’ve ever felt a twinge of guilt for driving to work alone in your car, knowing that if you had thought about things a little more, planned a little better, you could be riding your bike or taking the bus or even carpooling, then you’ll know what I mean.

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