You Are A Block of Wood

Most people see each other as JUST people. JUST is a word without any magic. Do we live JUST another life? Am I JUST another person in JUST another place having JUST another day? Why can't we believe? There is more to life than living and more to life than seeing what we see.

Think of a familiar friend... old what's his name. He has that way about him even though he looks like everybody else, talks like everybody else, will live and die like everybody else, and though he may be short or tall, big or small, wide or thin, there is something to his mischievous grin... it's magic.

What do you see in the mirror? Do you see all the magic that is hidden inside of you. Watch the world around you, the miracle of life. All of creation... life in its simplest form is nothing more than magic. Now all you have to believe is that it's in you too. It's you and every day you can make miracles. You can bring the breath of life into everything and everyone that is around you. But first you must learn to let go. First, you must believe.

For a time, I had forgotten who I was and that little light inside everyone. It is there when you look into a child's eyes and catch that smile that is hidden just below the surface... it is our sparkle. Believe that anything is possible and you will see wonders beyond your imagination but it all starts when you believe. Tomorrow just might be the day you or I have been waiting for you so let's not miss it for the world. And in the words of Edward Magorium,

When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.

I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."

Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.