The last few weeks, I’ve been knee-deep in Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men. The book moves quick. The film quicker. A thing full of stillness and yet always in motion. A meditation on what it means to move through this world. To bear it. Hard truth laid bare. Some heavier than others.

If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?

What you got ain’t nothin’ new. This country’s hard on people. You can’t stop what’s coming. It ain’t all waitin’ on you. That’s vanity.

People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they don’t deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things.

If the rule they followed led them here, led us to our current predicament, then what good was the rule? What good are any rules? What good are mine?

Corruption. Suffering. Tragedy. None of it is new. But a man lives through his own time and thinks no other could have been worse, that the world’s never been darker. He isn’t right, but he isn’t wrong either.

We take luck for granted. Blessings too. Spend our days fixated on the wound. A little light seeps through now and then, but it doesn’t last. Coming from McCarthy, you’d be a fool to trust it.

Anyway. You take care now.