It scares me, a little bit, that so much of this life business involves living the life you've chosen without actually being entirely satisfied by the choice. All of the breathtaking rigor, the indomitable determination of our bravely severe little hearts yields only so much. And yet still the situation demands nothing less.
I have days where it seems I'm living out a long pageant of an exercise in humility and gratitude, where I'm privileged to witness unbearably courageous and generous works done as a matter of course, and I begin to believe that I live in a world brimming with miracles. Those days must as a matter of course be swiftly chased with days of gripping disaster, anxiety and stupidity, where my fingerprints leave smudges of cataclysm on everything I touch, and even my deodorant smells like regret...