“It’s amazing we survive, isn’t it.”, someone wrote to me yesterday.
and i agree. death is usual, survival is miraculous.
the broken parts turn into barometers, devices of foresight, after they heal (what seems to be) haphazardly.
and then we live on, disfigured, but whole.
and very few can look at the disfigurements, and see the soul beneath for its beauty.
here is a toast (i rise a metal mug of earl grey tea, still smoking) to all those who survive amazingly. cheers to the world’s barometers and knowledge bases, companions, listeners – those without who the freshly broken would be lost and gone.