Sometimes life gets too perfect. My reaction is to make up problems. I've been surrounded by personal loss recently. I've lost so many friends in the last twelve months that I've lost count. I can see that that reads as oddly selfish. Self-centered.
My point is that we're all gonna die. It's nobody's bad luck. The selfish point of view is that somehow you've been singled out for grief. My friends and my heroes who have gone on lived wonderful, full lives. I don't have to dig far to see that my sorrow is for me. It's all a reminder for me that I've already lived a dream life. It's too late for bad luck. I missed any chance to die young a long time ago. Every dream has been fulfilled.
Love I have known and places I have seen. I've heard the sweetest music ever made. I have met the kindest people in the world and they have been good to me. Lots of them I have been lucky enough to consider friends.
For most of my life I considered suicide a symptom of mental illness. Once I ever hit rock bottom I changed my view and realized that everyone has the potential. Either the chemicals flowing through the veins help the electrical firings handle it or they don't. The pain can win that match at any time. With anyone.
For me, it has always been angels who I didn't even know were around. They all get tired of me thanking them. I don't blame them. I can be annoying. No, wait- I am annoying. My point, if in fact I have a point, is that I have acquired a big karmic debt. Kinda' like a school loan. I'll never get this baby paid.
The good news for me is that it is a privilege, an honor, to work on this budget. I have joy. I have love. I suppose that I'm about the luckiest guy who ever lived. I know, I know- I've watched too many old black and white movies. I'll keep watching them, too. I really love you.