Wednesday, March 18, 2015

18 March 2015

All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone else's life would not have been as rich without us here.   [Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care]

I wonder if it really is that simple. Many of the conversations I have had all throughout my Life have been about making a difference. Sometimes it was a person who made it. Others the Time or Place in which things happened.

For years Now I have wanted to BE of Service. I feel drawn to this notion that my BEing Here and Now are for a purpose. And yet so many of my days are just quietly inconsequential. I think that when my Light goes out, the worst thing will BE that I canNOT make any difference anymore.

What if it turns out that a life isn’t defined by who you belong to or where you came from, by what you wished for or whom you’ve lost, but instead by the moments you spend getting from each of these places to the next?    [Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts]

Playing What If?! is one of my favourite pasttimes. Trying to turn my head round and tilt it so I can see what I couldn’t until Just This Moment. So much of the time, I think that’s all Life is…

I love you, Currie


drew said...

I feel this quandry, too, Currie. Daily I ask: "How can I be of use?"

Sometimes the answer is clear, but most often I am feeling my way through the days. It seems both the most, and least, we can do.

Rita said...

I think of the play Our Town and how those very ordinary days are the ones that fill up our lives but we don't usually notice or appreciate them. They are a thing of beauty. Like priceless jewels strung across time. :)