I woke this morning to an hour and a lifetime lost. Almost 37. What have I to show for it? Nothing that will outlast me. Nothing compared to some peers. Nothing I once thought I could achieve with hard work and a little luck.
I sat with these thoughts. Saw them for the feints they are. And then I realized that I was wrong in saying that comparisons kill contentment. For comparisons, when flipped around, can also heal.
I was reminded of everything I can show for my time on this rock — the people I've loved, the life that I've built. Everything I could have lost, but didn't. And to be born here, now, with all of this, and not there or then, fighting for life.
What unmitigated luck. What a break.
Life isn't a thing to be measured. It's an act to be experienced, a sensation to be enjoyed.
Now to make that enough.