Birthday Gratitude List

Welcome to the Circulaire Voyage du jour for August 8, 2025! Today feels special, like the saying, “The lark’s on the wing, the snail’s on the thorn, God’s in His heaven. All’s right with the world.” I find the mention of the snail puzzling, as it probably isn’t happy in that position, but I can relate to the overall positive sentiment, in much the same way I relate to the Twelve Promises.

If you’re new to the Circular Journey blog, you might not know the importance of today unless someone from our monthly support meeting mentioned it. If you're not in the know, then I’m thrilled to share this good news with you! Spreading goodness and light is my raison d'être. Is that the word I'm looking for--meaning the reason for my existence? And so, without further delay:

Today is my birthday! Can you believe I keep having them? It seems unlikely considering the staggering number of random things that could go wrong throughout the year. You’d think birthdays would eventually stop. But as long as we stay on this blue marble, they happen annually.

As a side note, I wanted to mention that I recently discovered I share a lot in common with David Howell Evans, better known as the Edge, the lead guitarist and backing vocalist for U2.

The Edge was born in East London to Welsh parents and grew up in Ireland. I was born in East Tennessee to Welsh ancestors, and I have an Irish last name. See? We’re practically the same person!

Number One On My Gratitude List

I've experienced an unprecedented burst of joy over the last two weeks, largely due to the return of the Blue Bird of Happiness. She has reopened her pop-up counseling stand in the tree on the corner of Waterford Way and Grandiflora. (Advice 5¢)

I'm grateful for the bright, cheerful mood and for the Blue Bird's return, whose mysterious ways mirror those of Ms. Wonder's, the Number 1 entry on my gratitude list.

Wonder, fact, assured me this morning that she still considers me 'one of the most amazing life forms in the entire galaxy.'

The Stellar Short List

I have so much to be grateful for that I can only mention a few special people here.

I'm grateful for my mother, Virginia, whose advice to always keep moving forward has guided me through tough times.

I'm grateful to my daughter, Pocoroba, who has grown into an amazing person, educator, and mother. And it had absolutely nothing to do with me.

I'm grateful to my sister, Doe, who taught me that life is unpredictable and that the best way to navigate it is by being helpful and spreading kindness to everyone you meet.

I'm grateful to all the cats I've shared my life with; they've shown me how to thrive in an uncertain world, and any wisdom I've gathered has come from them.

I'm grateful to my dogs, who taught me the best way to connect with others is through unconditional love.

The Universal Good

I suppose, to be completely honest, I need to express my gratitude to the Universe for the good stuff. I'm not saying everything she does is good, mind you. I'm just saying I'm grateful for the good.

My Doomsday Mind

Welcome to The Circular Journey, where life is beautiful, and if your day disappoints, you can always restart it. Terms and conditions apply. Void where prohibited by the laws of physics. Genome's opinions can sometimes contain errors. 

The morning opened gray and wet, and I had been looking forward to an outing in the city and a fun, relaxing day. No sooner had I risen and greeted the day, such as it was, than Princess Amy began shrieking at the top of her metaphorical lungs: "Run for your life! The sky is falling!"

Newcomers to the Circular Journey Cafe may want to use the search field at the top of the page to query for 'limbic system,' 'Princess Amy,' or 'Genome.' Do it later; if you do it now, you'll fall into the rabbit hole and we may never see you again.

For now, suffice it to say that Amy sits at the command console of my mind-ship, her hands on the controls that determine the emotional nebulas we encounter. Hoping to get to the bottom of her current brew-ha-ha, I decided to confront her.

"What exactly is the problem, Your Highness?"

"What's the problem!" she wailed, "I'll tell you the problem! "The heat index is 111 degrees! Global warming is melting the polar ice caps faster than expected. Empty cars sit in parking lots all across Brunswick, with the engines running and air conditioning on while people are in the stores shopping! What's next? Long lines at the gas pumps? Power outages? No WiFi? It's the beginning of the end of civilization as we know it!"

I had to admire the logical progression, even if it resembled the reasoning process of someone who's never met a slippery slope they couldn't ski down at breakneck speed.

"Tranquilo, tranquilo, mi pequeña amiga," I said without the italics but with sincere concern. "The end of civilization as we know it may turn out to be not as bad as we imagine."

"You see, my little friend, the world I knew ended a long time ago, and I'm not saying I don't miss it, but it hasn't been as bad as I expected."

When I mentioned that my world had ended, it made me think about doomsday—not the way Amy sees it, where running out of her favorite yogurt feels like an apocalypse, but the real idea of doomsday that has intrigued humans since we first learned to worry about the future.

In religious contexts, doomsday represents the final judgment of humanity, the ultimate cosmic performance review where we discover whether we've been promoted to eternal bliss or permanently transferred to the complaint department.

Ancient Norse mythology gave us Ragnarök, an apocalyptic event so thorough it destroys not just Earth but the sun, moon, and gods themselves, which strikes me as somewhat excessive, like using a shotgun to kill a spider.

Then there's the Doomsday Clock. This metaphorical clock is currently set at 89 seconds to midnight according to their latest statement, though my notes suggest it was 111 seconds when I started thinking about this topic. I've been procrastinating on this essay longer than I care to admit.

The Doomsday Clock represents humanity's proximity to global catastrophe, with the hands moved closer to midnight as dangers increase. For perspective, consider that the twenty-four hours of this metaphorical timepiece represent either the entire span of human history.

I decided to calculate the probability distribution of the exact date and time using Schrödinger's probability calculations based on the wave function of quantum physics, but don’t panic. I’m not about to quote mathematical formulas.

I chose to use as input, the original biblical description of doomsday—the final Judgement Day—but all I fund there is the assertion that no one but God knows the timing:

"But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but my Father only."

Matthew 24:36 

With the clock set to 89 seconds from midnight, the solution to the equation suggested that The End can be expected no sooner than 2:45 PM a week from next Wednesday.

It's not an exact time. It’s something like the temporal equivalent of choosing the least popular flavor at an ice cream shop—technically possible but profoundly unlikely.

"See?" Princess Amy interjected. She'd apparently been eavesdropping on my internal monologue like someone monitoring emergency radio frequencies.

"Even the scientists agree! We're all doomed! I demand we immediately begin stockpiling paper goods, bottled water, and emergency rations!"

"Your Majesty," I replied in what I hoped were soothing tones, "Judgement Day has been coming since midnight on New Year's Eve in the year 999, when European Christians climbed trees to be closer to Jesus when he descended from heaven to fetch the living and the dead."

"So?" she said, and I heard a hint of confusion in her voice told me she was having second thoughts.

"Well," I began, "if we panicked every time we thought The End was near, we'd have all died of anxiety-induced exhaustion long before any actual apocalypse arrived."

Princess Amy’s view of the end of the world differs greatly from most people’s. Scientists research doomsday scenarios like asteroid strikes, volcanic eruptions, and the probability distribution of artificial intelligence deciding humans are unnecessary.

Amy approaches potential disappointment with the same level of existential dread that Stephen King brings to writing horror novels, except less productive and with more crying.

But here's the interesting part: despite Amy's tendency to minor disappointment like the opening scene of Mad Max, she occasionally stumbles onto legitimate concerns. Global warming is real. Supply chain disruptions do happen. Sometimes the sky actually is falling. Neil DeGrasse Tyson's YouTube video about space debris makes that point clear.

The trick is learning to distinguish between Amy's false alarms—which occur roughly every time a cloud passes over the sun—and genuine reasons for concern. It's like having a smoke detector that goes off when you toast bread: it's annoying, but you still want it to work when there's an actual fire.

It helps to search for that silver lining. For instance, I’ve noticed recently that thunderstorms and high humidity have neighborhood lawns looking better than ever.

If we're really only 89 seconds from midnight, we might as well enjoy the lawns and everything else while we can.

The End, as they say, is always coming. But until it arrives, we'll just have to muddle through with spoiled princesses, uncertain timepieces, and the eternal hope that Wednesday afternoon will be as boring as it sounds.