Wasteful Fecundity and Narrow Order

I’m still trying to find my way forward for a more organized life.  It’s not about getting more done, though there’s that.  It’s not about “becoming a better me,” though there’s some of that, too.  It’s not even about gaining control of my time, which is a bit of a fool’s errand, truth be told.  But there does seem to be a felt need at present to be more orderly.

Order and design are built in to the universe, no doubt about it.  We live in a “just so” world, in which cosmic measurements such as the distance of our planet from the sun, or the composition of gases in our atmosphere, or the tilt of the planet’s axis, and so on, are so precisely balanced as to defy mathematical odds.  If the Creator of the Universe can so balance on a pinpoint the seemingly infinite number of precise ratios, distances, angles, forces, and what not so that life can not only happen but can flourish on our planet, surely little ol’ me can figure out how to complete a list of less than a dozen items on a to-do list, and, at the same time, also be accomplishing those things that are meaningful to me (writing a book, losing weight, playing with my dog, and so forth).

Alas, it is not the case.

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