In every moment, the Angel of Objective Rationality and the Angel of Empathic Sensibility perch on each of your shoulders. There they sit, lovingly throughout your days, waiting to be consulted.
Indeed, there is meaning in everything, but I don’t always have to find it.
What is the most challenging—but ultimately, perhaps, the most worthwhile—way to live? The middle way. The path that neither blindly subscribes nor cynically rejects and derides. The place where dullness and tranquility come to dance.
Emotions are vibrations I experience in my body. They are not who I am. They are not who I am.
On my bike ride to work this morning, I saw the moon setting in the Western sky, gossamer and holy. Almost other-worldly. I felt very reminded—indeed I feel very reminded every time I see the moon in a particularly well-defined state—that we are on a planet that is delicately suspended between other massive spheres of rock and gas in a giant expanse of space. How exquisitely, almost tragically fragile it all is: this fleeting existence. I thought of meaning—how as the coldness of the morning shifts to the warmth of midday, what I deem important or worrisome almost arbitrarily changes from moment to moment. It is merely the nature of existing on a spinning planet that revolves around an indifferent sun: time passes. Everything changes, always. To cherish—not lament—the delicacy of every moment marks the wisdom of the lucid soul.