No Post Title Or On Death

In the greater spectrum of things, ‘right now’ is no less ordinary than any other ‘now’.  In the spectrum of others’ lives, I am not at liberty to assume I understand any more than what is enough to feel compassion.  In the spectrum of my life, this time of ‘right now’ will be *brief but monumental and I can find no appropriate words other than:

Love each other.  And let yourself be loved.

*Can anything experienced subjectively be brief?  I mean, isn’t every single thing we experience, even a leaf blowing across our path, different than what everyone else experiences?  It sticks with us.  So what we think is brief, we actually carry, in this physical form in which I write you from, until death.  Or in some form of eternity.  A conversation in its physical form can be brief, but the affects of the conversation, the conversation in essence, exist in my thoughts and reaction, which exist in me.  And every bit of our interaction with the life outside of us has lent to the construction of what I refer to as I.  Since birth.  Since conception.  That’s something special.

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