An interesting article on happiness versus meaning.
Life is beautiful. Gratitude: for good friends, for happy moments, for the ability to dance and sing and make music. For skipping down sidewalks and reading on trains. For old, drunk Frenchmen and cold, reviving night air. For the chance to write: to no one, to everyone, to myself, to the only part of me that pretends to understand (but can never fully understand). For people like me, and people different than me, for cats and small, barking dogs. For a world big enough to dream about and small enough to curl up in and find comfort. And at the end of the day, there is only one thing that I feel, pulsating through me: love.
“I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us.” -Robinson
For all that has been -- thanks.
For all that will be -- yes.