These I have loved:
. . .Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon
--Rupert Brooke, The Great Lover
I always get lost in the big questions; I mean about life and death and the meaning of our lives or whether God exists or if She/He cares about us tiny humans. The few pounds of gray matter that I have upstairs just cannot handle these deep questions.
However, with my usual hubris, I started to quote the French existential philosopher and novelist, Albert Camus, who I read in my angst-ridden youth when for a while I actually did pose with cigarettes and a haunted face along with other fops and fools in various cafes and coffeehouses in Europe and the United States.
Camus states somewhere in his essays that the only question worth asking is if “life is worth living.” Then, I realized that I had stated on the “Welcome” page to the topic that there would be no philosophical (or religious) ideas to mull over and dissect.
Thus, I wish to simply note some things in my l life that I love and that make my life worth living. I hope you relate.
Listening to my wife, Joyce, sing any time, but especially in the morning as she bustles about kitchen and bathroom. She makes up little ditties on the spur of the moment. Sometimes I tease her a little about having to listen to the same song over and over, but it is the singer not the song that is enthralling. The songs are a sweet icing. This is her latest to which I listen while trying to wake up enough to get out of bed:
Time to get up, time to get up,
Time to get up, time to go with the flow,
Time to get up, time to get up,
Time to get up and face the day!
Eventually such a refrain sung over and over again will get me up! It is really a pleasant way to arise!
Two beautiful creatures share our house with us. Taffeta is a sweet-natured spaniel/beagle female, and Ram is an almost totally black male cat. We try to treat them with respect and honor their individual spirits. They have the run of the house, and one of my favorite things (and Joyce’s also) is to hear the creaking of a door as one of our creatures opens it to enter or leave a room. We will be reading or resting in our bedroom when we hear a tiny ***creak-k-k-k*** and realize that one of them has “pawed open” a small crack between door and frame. Sometimes we hear a little thump. That means that Ram has stood on his hind legs and fallen forward with his front paws against the door, so that his weight forces opens a door that is too heavy for him to move with his paws alone.
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