On a good day, I remember the impression of life as this incredibly unlikely gift, not just personally but flowing through us all. I think of how we're sometimes isolated, sometimes bouncing off each other, sometimes interacting in a more involved way, but always in the rushing stream together for the short time we have here. When this remembrance happens, it doesn't eliminate worries and pains or make me instantly one with my neighbor, but there's a tangible shift in perspective.
It does call into question any sense of direct competition or self-denigration in light of others' relative "success", or the little half-conscious stories of self-worth. How can two people showered with unbelievable gifts even consider counting who has more?
When I think of people who seem endowed with a certain selfless, un-selfconscious grace, I think they must be remembering something like this all the time.
April 20, 2004 04:42 PM