If I see life as something imperfect in its design, I guarantee my own unhappiness.
If I embrace it as it is, on its own terms, I become a participant in its mystery and wonder.
As judge and jury, I will never be able to set things right. The thought that I might make improvements to an arrangement so grand that it effortlessly, even casually, includes an inexhaustible number of stars, is absurd.
As a participant, I need only rejoice and try to understand.
August 6, 2022
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Categories: A Few More Scratches