Our time on earth is limited by a number none of us know. The quality that we experience depends almost entirely on us – each one, in our own capacity.
Life is very short for some and interminably long for others. The enigma is that there is no way of knowing.
Where does that leave us each, individually?
Life is a strange bag of tricks and boils down to little more that about 40-60 years on average of a daily slog : waking, working, paying for things, sleeping. And yet it can be so much more. It can be.
It depends entirely on your own self. The quality of each minute. The minutes add up and create memories. But essentially if you are not present in the present and enjoying that very minute wholeheartedly it may be a wasted minute, hour, life.
I wish we knew in a way. The hours we each had and the moments that we should make count.
But we don’t.
Perhaps only when you lose a loved one do you re-evalute life on a minute to minute basis.
Today actually counts for more than you think and if you understand that in the realm of time and space we are each such a small inconsequent speck that may or may not live another day, surely it’s worth making this very minute worth it.
Sorrow and sadness fill my being for the loss of a life so huge at some moments and so full of the very essence of life. He lived indeed and took the time to make it special. I so hope that one day I will understand the reason we have a this life and a “death” or after life. I certainly don’t today.