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The luck of the draw 0

Yo Shaw,

How’s life, my friend? Good? Bad? Ugly? I suppose for you things are rarely good. But then again what do I know? After all, everything’s relative, isn’t it? As Viktor Frankl, Holocaust survivor, wrote in Man’s Search For Meaning, “This is the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

I think life’s about being alive and appreciating minor miracles, like a beam of sunlight glinting off the balcony rail or the sound and vibrations of a cat purring in your arms. It’s important how you live your life and to enjoy it. The quest, I think, is for an experience of life.

I want to breathe my last breath smiling and feeling fulfilled, believing that the good times and bad were worth it and that the life I lived was more than I could have hoped for or expected. I’m not saying life’s not difficult or depressing at times. Lord knows I’ve had issues to iron out but, well, I iron them out. Most problems can be vanquished with patience and a positive attitude.

At the moment everything’s on the up and up and has been since the day I was born. I don’t know how or why I’ve been so blessed. Perhaps my good fortune has been a conscience decision, the result of a determination to be happy. But then again, it could be the luck of the draw, the alignment of the planets and stars at the moment of my birth, the fact of a stable upbringing = dedicated parents, and a loving brother and sister. Maybe there’s a cosmic accountant who awards us by the merits of our previous lives’ thoughts, words, and deeds? Or it could be all of the above and everything in between.

Even if life is meaningless and heaven a fairytale it’s worth milking every moment. What matters most is the quality of your life, not measured in diamonds, dollars, and material objects but by the quality of your experience: the friendships you’ve cultivated, the love you’ve shared, the wisdom you’ve imparted, the laughter you’ve leaked.

Life is good, Shaw, that’s what I’m getting at. After all, what can I complain about? I’ve got my harmonica here, computer in my lap, Jimi curled up at my feet, and a glass of good wine in hand. Meanwhile, Francesca has finished cooking dinner. It’s on the way: fresh olives, cherry tomatoes, melt-in-your-mouth mozzarella, and a plate of pasta with pesto.

Buon appetito!

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