living

What is it like to be alive?

Left with impressions, mainly.

Staring out the window of a bus.  

The smell of laundry by the side of the house.

Grandma's hands, coloring in circles.

We encounter dozens of world views and philosophies throughout our life.  Most of us end up settling into the one we were raised with, or something somewhere in the neighborhood.  Defined, eventually, by the ways we stray and the ways we stay.

We spend the first third focused on our own personal and immediate dramas, unaware of a wider world, no thought to roots from which we'd sprung.  We spend our middles over thinking and fretting over everything- turning over awkward things spoken years ago and weighed down by some feeling of never quite being able to do enough.  Eventually we return to our small worlds again, concerned only with our own daily acts of living and surviving and remembering and forgetting.