Worth Living For

Hot showers after cold hikes, your hands are numb from the biting wind. Warm bed, window open, a gentle breeze to carry you into the dreamlands. A crackling fire, in a pit under a black canvas of sky embedded with a million stars, or in the hearth surrounded by laughter and pine. Enough food for the day. Walking down the street, without fear. The mental and emotional capacity to fall in love, to make mistakes, to grow up for once. Tech-tees. A book and a cup of coffee. Teaching your child her times-tables. Learning how to fingerpick the chords of your favorite song. A couch for naps on sunny (or rainy) Sundays. Sundaes. 

(Peace is more. More than an absence. Isn’t much of what we hope for just a world in which people can enjoy the ‘little’ things? It gives me a tight feeling in my stomach to think that most people are too scared, too poor, too sad and lonely to have enough space in their heads to see beauty. To laugh or even cry in a healthy way. Doesn’t most of what we love cost nothing. Or rather, doesn’t most of what we love cost us everything except for money? “Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness”, he said. Oh Lord, yes Lord, yes.)

On being present where you’ve been placed:

Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the 20th century, I will be happy.”

Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land; confusion all around. That’s a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.

– Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.


~ by justinhong on January 16, 2012.

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