There's something about suddenly slowing down after 40+ years in the rat race that enables you to look at things differently.

I'm sitting here in this trailer with my cat, peering over my Mac at the ocean.

It's 1:37 AM. Full moon.

A time when everything seems much clearer.

Some day I hope you can slow down enough to see what I can see right now.

Feel what I'm feeling...

...if heart disease, cancer, or a speeding car don't get you first.

Sorry, but you need to think about that.

I've been fortunate. Not in material things; I've always had to scrape by, and maybe that's an advantage.

Not a whole lot of distractions.

As I look out over the ocean, I find that my whole life — memories of all the days, all the pain, and even the brief moments of happiness — seem less real than last night's dream.

But it all was so important at the time.

It was everything.

And it gave me high blood pressure and regular warnings from my doctor.

So, what's left from it all?

Not much in the way of enduring memories.

What's left is more like feelings.

In particular, the feelings that came with helping someone, caring about someone, loving someone.

Those are the ones that seem to stick.

At my age you can get away with saying things like this.

An old heretic like me is even given the liberty of quoting Bible verses, like I Corinthians 13.

The one that's so often overlooked because it doesn't speak to doing battle with anyone or anything.

It says that there are only three things that won't pass away: faith, hope, and love.

I'm not too conversant with faith and hope; but, right now I can see the love part.

And, anyway, it says it's the most important.

Right now it seems as if it's the only thing that will stick—that will go with me.

I wonder why I wasted so much time and energy on all the other stuff.

 We are all here to love each other and all living things.
There is nothing else we have to learn
and nothing else we have to do.  

- author unknown