I’m still dreaming at 55 and thinking it is damn good to be alive.
I wonder and worry about the furrowed brows and hunched shoulders I see scuffling along sidewalks, stuck on stoops, bent in sadness over counters and table.tops I wonder why some folks think the sun doesn’t rise for them too, because it does, and they have a right to know that. At least I think so.
It seems to me sunrises and sunsets are there for all of us. Yet so many seem to be hemmed in by their histories, messages they may have gotten early on (or still) that they are not worth as much as other people or, equally disabling, that they are worth more than others. I’ve run across both. I imagine you have too.
This last year plus has been one helluva ride, I can tell you. I’ve gone from being knocked flat to standing again. The getting-up-again process sure makes it clear who you can count on and who you can’t count on. Nothing unique there.
What I can tell you is remember to live. I try to keep that as a mantra with varying degrees of success. Whether I am advocating for someone or a group of people or working on the memoir or writing an expose, or a piece like this for the blog, I try and remember to look out the window and see the beauty of nature that is always there for me.
I suppose that might be what I am saying here. We can become so task oriented that we forget to look out the window and see the wonder of the world we live in. There is a lot of beauty out there, a lot of magic, and it is there for all of us.
So, as you go through your day or night, remember to look out the window. The joy and wonder of life is there for all of us.