It is easy to overlook this thought that life just is. As humans we are inclined to feel that life must have a point. We have plans and aspirations and desires. We want to take constant advantage of all the intoxicating existence we’ve been endowed with. But what’s life to a lichen? Yet its impulse to exist, to be, is every bit as strong as ours—arguably even stronger. If I were told that I had to spend decades being a furry growth on a rock in the woods, I believe I would lose the will to go on. Lichens don’t. Like virtually all living things, they will suffer any hardship, endure any insult, for a moment’s additional existence. Life, in short, just wants to be.
Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.
Me again, trying to reach out to anyone. If you are willing, could you read 2 chapters of the story I’ve written. I just need feedback. You can find it here. You don’t have to spend any money on it. Like I said, I just want some feedback. :) Thank you.
Me again, trying to reach out to anyone. If you are willing, could you read 2 chapters of the story I’ve written. I just need feedback. You can find it here. You don’t have to spend any money on it. Like I said, I just want some feedback. :) Thank you.
