At any age life is a privilege. But maybe it takes getting older to begin to realise this?

As humans, as westerners, we focus on quality of life and we fall prey to the trappings of judging our lives according to ad hoc criteria we have self-imposed.  It’s important to live a good life. The word ‘good’ means something different to most of us and yet we yearn to conform.


Because we are ultimately lonely. We want to belong, be accepted, be loved.

I have often pondered the meaning of life. – The why?

But lately I have found myself more able to surrender to the everything. The beauty, the horror, the heaven, the hell, and embrace the eternal flow of the yin/yang dance.

To be here is such a privilege, why do we ask for more? I feel humbled by this gift and accept that it is so temporary. Our fear, our sadness are meaningful they make us human and all life is wonderful.

The maggot on the corpse, the dove in the clouds. We complement each other.

This is not meant as some preachy pretentious piece of prose. And although it may be just that, it is only through this expression that I attempt to get in touch with the chaos and confusion that torments the mind in this imminent tempest.

My father is ill. This is his journey. There is no blame or questioning. He suffers and through this suffering he will be reborn… in this life, one hopes.

And through his suffering I learn too, take steps on my journey. And we are united.

Pain is not necessarily cruel. It is an experience. Pleasure is not necessarily a gift, it is also an experience.

Tonight I watched the most magnificent sunset behind the northern hills of Florence.

And the nurse at my father’s side called me so I could speak with him. I am thankful.