~An Excerpt from a Blog by The Geriatric Pilgrim

I find more blessings to count, 

more for which to be grateful, 

after having been broken open 

by the deaths, destruction, decay around me, 

some of which I’ve caused, 

some of which I haven’t deserved, 

and some of which is just life

Without looking at my grief, 

I’m not able to recognize my joy. 

And I don’t mean glancing at loss 

the way I rubberneck 

at an accident on the highway.

I mean reentering the suffering, 

scrutinizing the fears, 

which means talking 

and writing about them.

~My urge to create begins in loss, 

my gratitude begins in fear, 

my compassion begins in pain, 

and my joy begins in sorrow.

~All of which, I guess, is to say:

I’d rather be whole than happy.