The scary, sad, and wonderful truth

I don't have much money. I don't have an important job. I don't see my grandchildren very often. I don't even see my sister very often anymore. My joints have been very iffy for the past two years. By all the standards of the past sixty years I should be sad and feeling less than.

Once in a while I do feel that way, but very very seldom.

Mostly I am cherishing the ability to just be who I am -- maybe for the first time in my whole life.

The scary, sad and wonderful truth is that I live in a world where if I don't make myself feel content, or happy, or find things that stir my imagination, none of these things will happen.

My life seems to have been clarified down pretty close to the basics.

I still care too much about what other people think, but I care less than I once did. I realize that I still walk closer to the fringe than many people, but I am more content with that -- because it is who I am. Without that I would just be a chameleon running around trying to blend in like I have most of my life.

There were times when I felt I had to stand up and they have been terrifying, but those were things that I felt I had no choice about. Life seems to be like that. It takes care of some of the important things and makes them impossible to pass by. The rest is up to us.