Moments hold meaning. But do they change our lives in real, sustainable, ever-lasting ways?
Exactly 22 years ago, July 23, 1993 , was the first time I realized that my mom could die one day. Which meant that I could die too.
So what if I am fat? So what? Every day I am grappling with that question.
Tonight, he stops to look at me- like really look at me. Except I sense that his eyes are also looking through me, to somewhere halfway in-between my skin and the deep inner recesses of his warmly kept memories.
Embarrassing admission: I had great fun at a Mensa conference. But the group's test-driven philosophy clashes with my deep-seated sense of the human mind and soul.
Sometimes it’s not just the book but what the book carries between its covers and what the book gives beyond its pages.
I had never heard about Faigy Mayer until today. But her suicide brought me hurtling back into what these days are supposed to be about, and a community we often ignore.
We blame authority for the problems in society. Or we blame others for not listening to authority. But we aren't looking where it matters: ourselves.
This has been the saddest year of my life and also the most fulfilling. Coincidence?... I think not!
