Life is short.
And we feel it only when a loss, a failure, a goodbye to a loved one, forces us to think on it. Generally, when we are content and happy with life, we do not stop to ponder on how short it is, it somehow seems endless stretching like a long straight road all the way into eternity and beyond.
The rumbling of storms far away, portents of life changing, whisperings of some cherished things being lost to oblivion forever, wakes us up from our slumber, and we realize, no matter what happens, life is still very short. Am I making sense? I know not, and care not. It is the surges in life, the venturing in the deepest darkest valleys, meanderings through the vicious jungles of life - we acknowledge that life is brief and short. And what does that tell us?
Should I say the obvious thing? this awareness forces us to appreciate life, to live it more fully? No. Life's brevity talks of other significant things, of losses,of changes beyond our control, of force of circumstance, of relationships ending, of friends turning into enemies.
Must we then celebrate life? For it will not be granted to us again? Must we then thank our stars and all that is holy for having had this wonderful experience of being in this world, for our being could so easily not have been. For we could not have existed at all ever. Do we ever reflect on that possibility? the probability of it being very high.
Life with all its cruelties allows us a wonderful sojourn, it bestows on us the luxury of being, of existing and living, however that living may unfold and be in this world, yet for all its mundaneness it is and that calls for celebration in and of itself!
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