The other evening I was out with friends, trying to behave normally and observing the antics of some of the folk near us. A large range of personalities was on display. I watched a young child rush up to its mother and demand a drink. It got me wondering.
Is love selfless? Does it celebrates what is around us and our experiences. Does it require us to own anything. There are many things I love. Some serious and some silly but the principal common denominator is that I do not possess or claim any right to them. I love them, admire them and celebrate them, but at no time do I feel any ownership of them
If you wall yourself up in a world of impressing others, grooming and guarding your reputation you most probably will get from cradle to grave in reasonably good order and be buried in some style. To some minds, however, you might have missed the point of the journey. The chance to wonder. To gain a faith that lifts you from the everyday, become less self-protecting, not more.
I came across a man of eighty-four this week. He gained his PhD when he was seventy and has just published his fifth book. He has never said I am too old to live, learn and experience. He makes each day an opportunity. In so doing he inspires me to do the same. In that he shines his light on me. A man may say he is too old, tired, or stupid or unlucky to achieve much. He may be too fat, selfish or timid or whatever but that is today. Knowing what we are today presents the chance to improve yourself tomorrow.
The world, if it has eyes, has seen it all. Seen species come and go. Watched empires strut around in triumph before vanishing into a chasm, often of their own making. Seen the web of lies spun around a situation and watched people struggling to escape. Watched the ice cap flow back and forward across the land, without regard to people who think they own the planet.
Lives come and go, mostly flawed, but something still remains. Passed through time and generations as if in a relay race. The sense of being humanly aware. Of loving something larger than ourselves and treasuring moments we will never own.