One of the things I notice, since retirement, is that having much more time, I also obsess about trifles, much, much, much more.
Deliverance prayer such as “I rebuke the spirit of excessive anxiety about whether to sweep the floor, or check the web news, and lay it at your feet, dear Jesus, take it away."
Or,
With more important but relatively trifling things: “I surrender to you, Jesus, my future on earth, whether it be lived in this place or another place.”
Jesus tells me to stop dog paddling in the waves of life and let Him float me to the shore of eternity.
On a more natural level, I do better when I stop and appreciate in detail every good sensory phenomenon on my horizon such as the orange fur of my cat, or a beautiful melody in a song.
These sensory experiences are a balance to a long life of professional philosophical analysis as a professor and writer
My family has a chat where we put up quick silly limerick type poems.
I put up this:
81 Year Old Hag’s Song
Flee, flee, flee,
to the bosom
of the family;
to the bosom of those
who without me wouldn’t be?
Where plentiful delicious
food and drink
there be,
and also tender care of
me!!
But bosom rhymes
a bit with thumb!
Under whose thumbs
do I really want to be?
Ah, take the joy,
the pain,
the love,
and,
eventually,
I, Jesus,
will take you
to the Trinity!