When I think about my life and why I exist and why I am moved by certain words, people, and/or experiences, it is overwhelming.  I am so grateful for my life, for the people who have introduced joy into it, for those who have challenged me to get over myself and start giving back to those I love, for the mistakes I have made and the lessons gained from them, for the open-slate of my life and my potential to make some positive mark in the world.  

More than anything, I am grateful that I am 100 percent, without a doubt, human. 

I don’t know why I still get surprised about that.  For example, I’ll explain to a friend how I over-reacted to a situation – how I should have reacted with kindness rather than contempt towards someone.  And then my friend tells me I’m human.  And it’s shocking to hear.  Me?  Human?  You mean, it’s ok to react like a negative, cynical prune if I’m in a bad mood that day? 

What a relief to know that I can be myself, the good and bad, and still be an OK person.  We can be the hardest critics of ourselves.  Perhaps it is the artist’s nature in me to analyze my decisions and behaviors – as if I’m the center of the world – which, thankfully, I’ve discovered I am not.  I can be me, the simple human that is me, and enjoy the beauty in stillness that follows an abundant symphony of experiences and interactions.