I should like to dilate, for a moment, upon the awesomeness of my life.
Take one day: Today started early, with my son's Soccer game. Man of the match.
Then I gave two well-received performances of a play I'm in with my local dramatic society, The Richmond Players, 'Dial M for Murder'.
Then I retired to the Local for a well earned drink with my friends, some of whom I've known for decades, and some of whom were not my friends until this year.
Then, on the way home, close to midnight, I happened to pass the 'Hawkesbury Relay for Life', happening at the local showground, being a 24-hour walk-a-thon for Cancer research and support. So, on a whim, I did a spontaneous lap, remembering those (too many) in my life who have been taken by Cancer, and made a donation. I arrived home to a warm hearth and my sleeping bairn.
My Son adores me, and I him. I'm half way through my Masters at Uni and I'm loving every minute of it. I own a house. I'm civically engaged. I walk the corridors of power. I work for a parliamentarian. I organise and I influence, in my own modest way. I am heard. Someday, perhaps, I will do more, if I'm good enough.
I have my health, I'm comfortable in my own skin, and I pay my bills well enough to ease small burdens elsewhere. Throwing a ball with our two dogs at the end of a day, or observing the turn of the seasons, or hearing my boy say "I love you, Dad" carry more moment than the pronouncements of the great, and that is precisely the perspective I ought to have. Those whom I care for are prospering, and so, I prosper too.
I cannot say I have no enemies, but I can say that they fear me. I am wrestling with the Great Questions, and those I am on the journey with share the same curiosity.
I have, in short, an awesome life, and I love it.
That is all.