Rendering Unto Caesar

So I'm back in the Old Pueblo. Some things have changed, like the new bridges on the River Path, and some things carry on, like the people at the Racquet Club doing the same workout, having the same conversations, and watching the same ball games they have for years. I am here after being away for a while and see the place with fresh eyes, a witness to urban life in the Southwest. That life is a scramble for stuff, status, and image. People are crazy. I have been lucky enough to step outside of that, to ruminate on what really matters, to render undo Dios what is hers. I feel like a lost pilgrim returned to Babylon. I am here because I want to make another deposit of time in the money machine, to strengthen my springboard into the next phase of life, purchase a pen to write the next chapter. I tell myself I need build momentum to retire, to get off the treadmill, to launch into old age, to transform into whatever it is I might become in late life. For now, though, Caesar sits with his palm open, waiting for my payment unto him, the dues I pay for three hots and flop. My soul's work will have to wait a bit.