None of us has a perfect life. Suffering is a fundamental part of living as a human. In one way or another, it’s there, just look around at the stressed out, violent world we live in.
But suffering isn’t the end of the story. It’s what you do with it that matters. Forget all of the crap about karma and rebirth and living a good life so that your future lives can be happy. Who gives a shit about future lives? Just focus on the immediate problem first, which is being happy in your current life.
Search… search… keep asking questions and trying different things in everything that you do. There is not one correct response to anything, it’s your world as much as anyone else’s. You’re free to be the unique individual that you are, and yet you’re inextricably tied to every single other being in the world as you are only a minute part of a much much larger organism. This is good. You are never alone, even though it often feels that way.
Be happy. Love. If someone rejects you, walk away and get on with your life. Life is too precious to waste it on negativity. Don’t harbor jealousy, resentment or anger. Learn how to meditate. Get to know that you have an inner being that is your authentic self that is different from the stressed out person on the outside who can’t let go of the negative thoughts. Let this authentic self lead you through the obstacles that life constantly throws in front of you. Let it free you for more important things like self-confidence, self-acceptance, and joyfulness.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Just in case I don’t survive yet another birthday, I’m writing this as a final farewell. Life has been an exhilarating ride for me. I’ve had higher highs and lower lows than most people. But in the end, I came out ok. I’ve lived my life to its fullest, I’ve experienced a great deal of what life is all about and come out the other end of it — well, alive until now. But now…. 59 is pretty freakin’ old. Who knows what’ll happen to me tomorrow.
If I don’t survive, please remind Hubby what my last wishes are: cremate me and take me out into the woods with a bottle of whiskey. Spread my ashes through the trees and bushes and pass the bottle as you try to think of good things to say about me — or you can be silent, whatever. I’m dead, so I’ll hardly be offended even if you decide to stand around telling each other what a crazy pothead I was.
Of course, it goes without saying that if I survive, pretend this post never happened and send me chocolates :p.