Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Every Day

Every day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.
Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860)

Every morning is a rebirth to me, daily chances for improving whatever was accomplished the day before are a gift of every new dawning. If I was born feeling that way life stole the notion soon enough to be beyond the reach of my memory. For the first forty years, time was mostly something I struggled through. But nowadays each one is precious and my awareness of their promise is complete.
I lived without knowing how lifeless I really was. Awakening has given me hyper consciousness of the moment. I try to own as many as possible; not knowing how many I possess only makes them that much more precious. I like to imagine that the amount of moments is not as important as how long you can stretch them.
Quantity simply has to figure less in the long run than quality, or none of us has a fair shake at happiness. Stretch all your moments. Wring them dry of every drop of joy. Own them proudly, even the simple ones that seem ordinary at first glance. Every tick of the clock is a journey forward through life. And forward is such a wondrous direction to be headed.