Paradise Lost

The past few weeks here have been nice. I mean like real nice. Walking-around-in-shorts-and-a-t-shirt-and-sandals-until-9-or-10-at-night kind of nice. I made the mistake of getting used to it. I thought the weatherman was catering the forecasts for me. Then this week started. It came subtly, with a few breezes. The breezes were quite nice, actually, allowing us to take part in the kite flying culture here.

And then before I know it, I'm back to wearing jeans. I actually had to find them, that's how long I had been wearing shorts. I know most you reading this are probably not feeling too sympathetic, if at all. I don't blame you. And I don't expect sympathy. I just felt like writing and all I had to go on was the title. It seemed fitting. But the funny part is, paradise is more a state of contentment than a place. When I remember that, I don't seem to mind so much putting an extra layer of clothing on, or having to find my jeans, or socks for that matter. I do mind when I think that some people may not experience paradise. Some people eat the lie that paradise is a place and wherever that place is, it is not here. Lies. I write this more as a reminder to myself than a teaching. For at times, I have eaten those lies. They are like the breeze, they come subtly. And before you know it, paradise is lost. How do I find that which is lost? I open my closet and find my jeans.

Jason