I'm getting so frustrated with how obsessed we all are with what comes after this.
A zit flares up on my forehead and I see how my beauty will never last
and my mortality is shoved in my face whenever I cut my leg shaving.
My phone screen shatters and I have an existential crisis.
But this morning, I came to the conclusion (that I hope will last) that
--just our luck--
that's what "this" is about. This "this" at least. This life.
I don't think we're supposed to get hung up on all the details of what happens 30 or 50
or, for some unlucky few,
year from now.
I think we're suppose to pay attention to how easily we get torn up and spit on and shrunken from how painful it is to be breathe and be alive sometimes.
And then notice how good it feels to touch things and love someone and use your feet to get from point A to point B.
Recognize all of that, and adjust your mood accordingly.
Who has time and thought to spare then?
It's a good day,
let myself be happy with what I have right now instead of trying to figure out how undeserving and fickle I might be.
And then, maybe [hopefully]
in the next life, we'll all be a little less breakable and human. We'll be resilient against wind and heartache and loneliness. emptiness--------
Resilient even to the hands of whoever we have to thank for making us this way.
Magnificent and tall and sturdy,
Wouldn't it be gorgeous if we were all trees?