Water of Life

I walk down to Judiciary Square, taking photos as I go. It is bright, warm in the sunny spots, cool in the shade of the buildings. I look at the fountains, monuments to those who have given their lives in service to others.

I take deep breaths and remind myself that this is the only life I get.

I can make of it whatever I want. I can fill it with drama. I can let every little thing hit me with the force of an atom blast. I can take things personally, whether they were intended that way or not.

I have a choice.

I can let the things that hurt me flow around me like turbulent waters pass the immovable stones. Sand may be pulled out from under me, but I will only shift if I let the floods overwhelm me.

I have a choice.

I can let my moods rule me, control me, dash me down between the canyon walls until there is no escape but the underground wells. I can, because that is a choice before me.

I can also refuse, and with that refusal stay in the sunshine, bright and warm, reflecting the beauty of life back upon those around me, in brilliant sparkles and shards of vivid color.

That, my friends, is endurance – choosing to live in spite of the desire to float away.