What makes a life? What makes this a good life? Is life the minutes that fill each day? Yes, and no. Life is all these yet, the reader must choose their own happiness/contentment within their minutes. And if this doesn’t seem possible, well then it is time to write a new story. This is the reality for all of us Creators. We are writers, of each reality we are experiencing. It all comes from ourselves. There is no invisible hand that forces our story out into the light of day, it simply does not exist. In my early days, I used this excuse. Screaming into the darkness, “it isn’t my fault”! But the truth is that isn’t the case. Today like every day, I am choosing. Choosing to love or damn the rain that has changed the course of what I was pursuing today. Yes, I get to choose. No one else does for me. Shall I dance and sing in the heavenly life-giving shower raining down upon my world? Why yes, I will. For today is mine. The rainy stage is set for me to perform my dance of happiness. Or shall I act a dance of misery, calling the dark angels to join me in this eternal suffering? No. I have suffered enough for a thousand lifetimes. So, today I throw away these dancing shoes and sing barefooted with my rainy lover. We are old friends, the rain and I. Her thunder has been a lover of mine, since the beginning of all time. She shakes my bones and I laugh with her, calling me out to play. I discovered the invisible hand was my own. It always was. Patterns of habits took on an automatic life of their own. What I believed to be another, was nothing more than my own autopilot left running. This is the nature of humanity. We learn while we are running through the fog of our days, we forget. When the fog is gone, we find we are standing alone. The puppet master doesn’t exist, he is just an excuse we believed in. Our belief made him real. In the clarity, we can see he is only a thought we gave life. Looking at my hand, I see the power that creates worlds. The power that has been creating my world forever. And surprisingly at that moment, I realized this hand was attached to me. I have been the puppet master the whole time. The one who gives pours out the blessing of this life. The one who punished me for not being perfect. But now I see the truth. I am perfect. We are all perfect right now. The real perfection is the imperfect life we live while exploring. Perfection is each of us enjoying this life adventure we are here living while explore, laughing, crying, and now forever more, dancing within the beloved rain.
All this, equals a perfect life.
Darrell L. Grant
Happuccino Life
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