Life is amazing isn't it?
And I don't mean this in any sort of global, transcendent sense. Not like, "Isn't the entire experience of life amazing?" Not to say that life isn't amazing in this sense, but isn't simply the very fact of life, of sentiency, incredible? Whether you did anything or not, isn't it amazing enough just to be alive?
Don't dwell on the idea that some are born in terrible circumstances. Don't dwell on the idea that some are born with more or less. Don't dwell on the fact that sometimes life, to some, seems more burdensome than valuable. I surely respect such feelings and experiences and do not seek to retract from them in the smallest.
But imagine life apart from such things. Imagine life independent of all else. Consider that anything IS, rather than isn't. Just the fact that when there could be blackness there is, instead, an explosion of color.
I mean how many poets and novelists have painted life as something that was only worthwhile if grabbed by the horns and conquered? That life lived anywhere shy of grandness was life wasted. But isn't a life an incredible thing regardless of how it is lived? Isn't it enough to simply be, rather than not be?
Is life a marvel only if "lived to its fullest"? Is there some measure that would determine for us when a life is and isn't a wonder? And wouldn't humans be the sole qualifiers? And only if meeting the determined criteria?
Isn't it so much simpler and appealing to agree that life comes labeled as "AMAZING!", regardless the packaging?
That's what I thought the other day as I drove home and noticed a fawn on a front porch.
There was nothing particular about the fawn (aside from its place on that porch). It was simply a fawn. And it was simply a porch. And it was simply munching on some leaves to the side of that porch. That's it. But don't you think that's enough? Isn't that amazing enough? That there was such a thing as a fawn. And such a thing as a porch. And such a thing as me in my car on my way home from work?
.a Boy
