I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, a million of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by it’s power, it’s unceasing notion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and moutains, deserts and hidden rivers and the lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with the one we love is perhaps the greatest joy as we can know – unless it be to share our laughter.
And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.
I’ve always avoided fights. I make jokes instead. I tell people what they want to hear in order to avoid a confrontation. I pretend to want things I don’t want, and I pretend not to want things I do want. No one gets hurt. Except me. The lines are so crossed and blurred at this point that I don’t know what I want. I just know I want it to be easy.