Cazenovia In order to subvert the recent heat wave, my family persuaded me to drive them to Old Forge. While personally at peace with the solar deity, I saw no reason to resort to drastic measures, but a trip to Enchanted Forest is the epitome of sun worshipping.
The universe is dark and cold, except for the seemingly random placement of stars, each a centerpiece of its own orbital system. Without these fireballs, there would be no life as we know it.
Luckily, we were able to secure a cabin for an overnight stay. We ate hot dogs and marshmallows over an open fire and slept in sleeping bags after candlelit ghost stories.
Around the glowing and almighty sphere, planets revolve and slowly cook, as if evolving by means of rotisserie. It is the sun that gives us light, heat and the magic of creation.
Matter itself is nothing but eschewed particles of energy extracted, forming the rocks, dirt and ground that we walk on, held in place by the gravity of the solar system. Water, being the polar byproduct of fire and matter, is the building block of life, leading to the plants, animals and the air that we breathe.
The sun is the mechanism that offers the gift of life. If people weren’t so grumpy we would realize that the sun is God, for why should there be a sun and God? The sun is miraculous, heavenly, all-powerful and the creator. We should worship it, give thanks and move on.
I awoke early at sunrise and left my fellow campers snoozing. I made the trip to the community bath in the dim light and returned to our site for my toothbrush and razor. My handheld magnifying mirror would complete my toilet set.
People want more, always more, to appease the grumpiness. For some reason, we like to believe everything is negotiable and we don’t like it when we don’t get our way, no matter how outlandish that way might be. By obsessing with the nonnegotiable, we fabricate our own discomfort. This is what makes us grumpy.