Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Every moment we are alive, we are living. A trite statement of rhetoric, perhaps, but one whose simplicity it took me 24 years to understand. A being of goal oriented thinking, I spent my entire life wondering when I would finally be able to live, as if years of education and training were merely preparation for a future of luxury, of contentment, of "life". Fool. As if the future - which with its counterpart, past, do not exist, as one is merely an idea of events yet to happen, while the other is the scent of events that already were - were something special. As if these delusions of grandeur could really be more incredible than the oxygen that flows through my blood, giving life with each breath; more great than the calm morning wind that caresses the core of my being as I walk tranquil streets. A phantom of things to come, the potential of things that are not, more real or wonderful than the simple majesty of things that are? Impossible. Yet just as difficult to see. Those that hold their breath, waiting for tomorrow, not pausing to inhale the fragrance of roses, will die waiting, as tomorrow never comes. The tragedy of life is not that we must die, but that we wait to live.