We can live. By all means, live. Wake up, eat cereal, walk, work, talk, eat, sleep, live. I know I can accomplish great things when I live. I can get a bonus, have a relationship, read a book. Read 100 books. Hell, write a book.
Or, we can Live (did I lose you?).
We can fall in love. Or fall in Love over and over again, and without fear or apology.
Be fascinated by the freckles that make each day staggeringly complex and different. And similar.
We can listen. Or Listen with true openness and tolerance. To even the intentions spoken between words and without speech. Not just to those we understand with ease, but also those whose actions we will never understand.
And to those who are no longer with us, and exist instead in the slowdancing of snowfalls. And cherry Chapstick.
The only thing that’s constant is change, and we feel safer to resist impermanence. So, we can live. Or Live and open ourselves, as petals, and remain passionately curious.