love the moment

Love till it hurts. And it will hurt… To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable. ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves Today was the 40th anniversary of CBS Sunday Morning - the weekly news and features show that begins each Sunday with a very memorable trumpet solo. You may not be a fan. If you have never seen it - or if you have and found it maudlin or gauche - you may not like most of the words that will follow this paragraph. I cannot think of a single episode of the show that I've seen that did not move ...

This sh!t is real Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Mary Oliver My relationship with reality has always been somewhat tenuous. For whatever reason - genetic composition, family of origin, or fundamentalist upbringing - my world has not always happily coexisted with the real one. Of course, should you ask a philosophy professor or even a quantum physicist "what is real", the answer might not meet your expectations. Being raised by a bi-polar mother gives one a unique perspective on life. Happy, sad - good or bad - were words with a very loose context with my mom. The words could change meaning from day to day - and sometimes from moment to moment. Now, firmly rooted in middle age and heading towards retirement, my life experience has been an adventure into meaning and truth. And, surely, both those words are elusive in their def...