Gratitude
by Oliver Sacks. I couldn't think of a better book to start 2016 off... I am grateful for not only my life happened but it also happened with Max in my life.
I cannot pretend I am without fear. But predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved, I have given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and though and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.
Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.
[---]
And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer, I find my thoughts, increasingly, not on the super-natural or spiritual but on what is meat by living a good and worthwhile life - achieving a sense of peace within oneself. I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest, the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one's life as well, when one can feel that one's work is done, and one may, in good conscience rest.
by Oliver Sacks. I couldn't think of a better book to start 2016 off... I am grateful for not only my life happened but it also happened with Max in my life.I cannot pretend I am without fear. But predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved, I have given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and though and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.
Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.
[---]
And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer, I find my thoughts, increasingly, not on the super-natural or spiritual but on what is meat by living a good and worthwhile life - achieving a sense of peace within oneself. I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest, the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one's life as well, when one can feel that one's work is done, and one may, in good conscience rest.
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