It’s
so strange to me that still, at 72, I stress and fret over dozens of details
each day, as though I’m the great master-creator, and the success of the day
depends solely on me. That’s about as silly as saying that I’m responsible for
the sunshine I see outside today, or that sunset won’t take place tonight
unless I oversee the details. This universe is a spectacle of immeasurable
proportions, and I am simply one of its numberless parts. It’s not my duty to plan
and present the spectacle, but simply to take pleasure in it and be blessed by
it. Surely, if I were standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon, I wouldn’t be
fretting over some rocks that seem out of place, or stressing about shadows
that don’t seem as perfect as they should be. The Grand Canyon is glorious
without any help from me, and so, actually, is all of life. Yes, I need to do
my daily duties with care, but I also need to occasionally step back in
astonishment and simply be grateful for the stunning spectacle called life.
Truth is, all of us are little Grand Canyons, suffused with mostly-undiscovered
magnificence, and perhaps, every so often, we should set aside our fretfulness
and unease and just sit and stare at our lives with fascination and
thankfulness.
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