I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us.
We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.
We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well.
Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know – unless it be to share our laughter.
We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide.
Most of all we love and want to be loved.
We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.
for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful.
It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.
Today’s harsh realities leave so many people feeling hopeless. We are easily convinced that we have hit a dead end, or that the things we care about are only fleeting. And, when we are particularly struggling, we think that our difficult situation will never end.
And yet, we have no control of the earth’s winds or the hands of time. Big and small miracles occur in our daily lives. To believe otherwise empties ourselves of hope, and we fall victim to fear.
We must remember to expect good, rather than anticipate disappointment. It is the power of positive thinking at work, with a pinch of gratitude and the zest of faith. The plans for each of our lives are bigger and more beautiful than we can dream. Maintaining hope, especially in the midst of uncertainty, is what keeps us on the right path and makes our days worthwhile.
Half of me is so madly in love with humans. I admire them with passion and curiosity.
And then, the other half is so embarrassed by their crippled deficiencies at life. Mulling about with loveless incompetence. Spending their days in total emotional illiteracy, failing to ever learn tenderness and grace toward others and, more frighteningly, themselves.
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.