Another glorious day
in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed
and sent pulsing onward we know not where.
Life seems neither long nor short,
and we take no more heed to save time or make haste
than do the trees and stars.
This is true freedom,
a good practical sort of immortality.
I love, love, love John Muir and his indefatigable zest for life. And when I set out into a morning like this one- the air cool and scrubbed clean, the sun so bright and cheery- I can’t help but think of him and think, to John Muir all moments were as lovely and fresh and clear as this one.
What a wonderful life to live.
Am I the only one who so often sees the world through another’s eyes?
Whose words, actions, views, color the way you look at life?