inspiration is everywhere,
some days I’m too lazy to look

too much money denies the pleasure of a simple life

Each day death takes lives beyond counting,
yet none who live think –

this day
death
can come to me.

(Adapted from William Buck’s translation of the Mahabharata)

true enough: we cannot be happy in the future,
we can only be happy now, in the present

the same is true for unhappy

go figure

not distinguishing pain from suffering is itself suffering

the experience of free will is neither proof of nor
an explanation for it

past and future exist only in the conversations we have about them

each moment is as it is;
to say that it “should” be some other way
only burdens the one who says “should”

the one free extension is almost done,
taxes are due in three more days,
I have no IRS approved excuse for delaying any longer;
I could do them now,
but there’s still three days

instead I write thes lines;
absent a true emergency
they’ll be filed on time,
they always are

I used to worry and call myself a procrastinator,
now I worry not and just call me me

gratitude arises along with the preference for what is

what turns you on is what turns you on . . . and sometimes it surprises you

in America one speaks not of the attendant sorrows of aging lest one be thought old

a critical distinction in living an examined life: your experience and your explanation of your experience

what once was unimaginable
has this day come to pass –
sixty-five

you discover your own path at the end, if there is one