I often complain about the physical world. Nothing works exactly as I would wish. Some things get stuck together, while others would not hold together for all my trying. Quite a number of them are hard to reach. Many things are either too small or too large, but few of them are just the right size. A surprising number of them shatter or tear or crumble at the worst possible moment. Things get entangled one with another all the time. They cannot be found precisely when I need them. Many things are either too hot or too cold to handle. And so on, and so forth. “Fucking physical world,” I often grumble as I am collecting the pieces from the floor or wiping my clothes after a spill. And yet, there is no other world. Messy as it is, it is the one and only. And it is as physical as physical can get. The only thing I can do when handling things is to pay them all the attention they deserve. One at a time, they will be so much easier to handle. I can do more, though. Much more. I can relish the physical world. And I can handle all the things not only with due care, but also with love. By and by, the physical world will turn out not to be messy at all. And swearing at it will become history.

Addendum (January 13, 2016)

Swearing at the physical world became history when this piece was written. Ever since, I handle everything I touch with attention bordering on devotion. And I focus on whatever I am doing without fail. By and by, the physical world is turning my way. It is becoming ever kinder to me, too. Things behave just as I would wish them to behave because I handle them with due care. Nay, love. What amazes me about all this is that it took a single piece of writing to change my life with respect to the physical world. Again and again, my writing is life-changing for me. And I am not exaggerating, either. The more I am aware of the power of my writing, the more it helps me to put my life in order. Alleluia!