The Best of Everything Is Masonry

One would have to be mad to accept the challenges of self-improvement in a secular environment, no?  Is it so wrong to pick up the utensils left behind by people we have not known, at a time when the mists of time have relevance?  Confusion, of course, confusion. who could sit at this feast without confusion?  Why ever would we tamper with a poor fools self-consciousness?  And if we are onboard when we launch ourselves off, we don't even know where this ship headed.  Is it sufficient to head off toward aspiration, hope and that cruelest of all taskmasters- self-improvement?  So many questions, that we can't learn until we defeat one of the great warriors of existence- silence.

So is it within the grasp of a man in the market to be cultured so that he can have a choice that a privileged man can never know- choices that define the best of everything.

I can't tell you that the best music is jazz, or classical; voice or instrumental.  Is a feast of garden grown sweet potatoes and chicken with delightful company, surrounded by a good drink, good music on a summer's evening better than a night at the opera before dining at a fine restaurant?  Or is it true the mason in me can be completely happy with whatever circumstance cause him?

Where is the contentment to be found?  Well, it's obvious.  Discovery is a product of imagination, courage, curiousity, patience.  Masonic literature is about as defining as saying what has been written is as important as what will be written.   The best of everything is to move through life competing only with yourself, with tolerance and perseverance, with the business of a work in progress.   

Happiness is being.