It surprises
me that I still sometimes consider my personal life so all-important, as though
I am at the center of the universe’s show, when the truth is that my life is as
brief as a passing shadow, as fleeting as a tale that is told. In the immeasurable
history of the universe, my life span is a simple snap of the fingers,
something that flashes and disappears in a small part of a second. It’s a
bubble in the stream of time that bursts almost before the everlasting stars
have seen it. This doesn’t mean my little life is
insignificant – just that it’s not the center of things, not the axis around
which the world revolves. Hamilton Salsich is a wave in the ceaseless river of
the cosmos - a wave that’s special, yes, but no more so than a small mouse or
the breeze that’s blowing past our house just now. I love my life, but I hope I
can love it no more than I love other people’s lives, or the rolling river near
our house, or the small birds that bring their beautiful lives to our feeders. It’s
a little tale, this life of mine, a tale among countless other brief and
wonderful tales the universe has been telling almost forever.
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