05. You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep the spring from coming
I'm a lucky man. My collection of coffee, my one amenity, keeps growing. But every man is lucky who has friends. Thanks, Ambassador. If you ever need a Cohdopian coffee testimonial, I'll be happy to provide you with one.
There are many things I'm fortunate to have.
If there's a book, or a story, or a poem that you care about, it's a good idea to reread it in every new phase in your life and see what else it might have to show you. I was rereading one of my own favorite books, and this line stood out:
I woke up one fine day as blind as Fortune. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not still asleep.
It stung in a way I don't remember it stinging before.
One benefit of growing older is that words we once merely understood intellectually we grow to feel, with the bitter yet necessary nerves of experience. It's almost enough to make one laugh. Or weep.
As recently as a few months ago, I hadn't been able to picture what my life would be like in a year's time, because I had no vision of the future. I suppose I do have a future after all.
There are still things I'd like to do. I'd like to visit Mexico and Puerto Rico, to see where my grandparents lived. I'd like to go dancing again and keep dancing all night, until I'm so tired that I can't sleep. I'd like to work in a coffee shop somewhere, see what it's like to have a simple job again--not that I think that kind of job is easy, but it doesn't involve matters of life and death, and that could be a nice change. I might like to run a coffee shop of my own.
Most of all, I'd like to help people. To advise the wrongfully convicted. Or victims of domestic abuse. There are too many people who don't know their rights. I'm tired of seeing the justice system abused.
There are many things I'm fortunate to have.
If there's a book, or a story, or a poem that you care about, it's a good idea to reread it in every new phase in your life and see what else it might have to show you. I was rereading one of my own favorite books, and this line stood out:
I woke up one fine day as blind as Fortune. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not still asleep.
It stung in a way I don't remember it stinging before.
One benefit of growing older is that words we once merely understood intellectually we grow to feel, with the bitter yet necessary nerves of experience. It's almost enough to make one laugh. Or weep.
As recently as a few months ago, I hadn't been able to picture what my life would be like in a year's time, because I had no vision of the future. I suppose I do have a future after all.
There are still things I'd like to do. I'd like to visit Mexico and Puerto Rico, to see where my grandparents lived. I'd like to go dancing again and keep dancing all night, until I'm so tired that I can't sleep. I'd like to work in a coffee shop somewhere, see what it's like to have a simple job again--not that I think that kind of job is easy, but it doesn't involve matters of life and death, and that could be a nice change. I might like to run a coffee shop of my own.
Most of all, I'd like to help people. To advise the wrongfully convicted. Or victims of domestic abuse. There are too many people who don't know their rights. I'm tired of seeing the justice system abused.