One day, at a very early age, I reached the conclusion that I would live forever. I remember saying to myself on that occasion, in all simple certainty, I cannot die. It was a revelation, not a plea, one which arose not from long deliberation or fear, but from the earth itself, and seemed to emanate from the palm of my upheld hand. This startling new truth was borne out […]
Every newborn is a perfect gift to the world. That fact doesn’t change, even when we believe and act otherwise. Someday, when all children grow up knowing they’re a perfect gift to the world, there will be no more war. There will be no culture of greed, anger, and retaliation, and no need to prove who’s stronger. There will be universal acceptance, cooperation, and gratitude for each other’s unique insights […]
So perfect, so still — did you die, little bird, or were you cured by the cold? . [ 1636 ]
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 […]
This moment is the perfect place to live and die and rest. It’s the perfect place for joy. Tell me: have you ever been anywhere else? Have you seen this moment end, or traveled beyond its edge? Tell me: where else would we have met? . [ 1402 ]
I wonder if there is anything more ludicrous than the idea of self-improvement. Imagine looking at a newborn baby and thinking such a beautiful, perfect thing can be better than it is. Imagine believing so strongly in the idea of imperfection that one is bound to see it everywhere and in everything. And then imagine teaching by example this tragic outlook to a blossoming, perfect child. . [ 1370 ]
William Michaelian 