Thinking about this whole thing . . . this experience I'm having that I'm calling life . . . and the way it works. Because it does. Work, that is. And I love it. I think I still spend too much time worrying about things that don't ultimately matter. In the face of death, after which moment I may well cease to exist, does it really matter if at times I do things a little oddly? Considered this way, I think it's okay that I'm bowled over by the beauty of a sunset or the moon on a partly cloudy night. I think it's a good thing to suddenly have my breath taken away by my good fortune in having the friends I have, who make every moment that much fuller and more saturated with whatever it is that makes it mean so much. I think that, perhaps, I'm justified in caring too deeply, if that's possible, for the people in my life and for sometimes being sappy and emotional. I believe that there is beauty and goodness and I want to be a part of it, to have it be a part of me. I want to be ecstatic.
So what's my plan? To stop thinking this and start living it.
Return to thoughts and musings.
© 1999 Rosa Carson