On Being Human

It occurred to me just yesterday that perhaps we're too hard on ourselves.  My father used to tell me this.   We nurse our own wounds, deny ourselves happiness, and sometimes second guess ourselves. 

I think that this is all a part of what it means to be human.  Isn't this life grand, though?  Isn't this humanity a tragically, fatally beautiful thing? In one moment, we can be carried by the waves of life to highest peaks of happiness, and then, in the next, the darkest pits of despair.  What a rush! What a ride!  How glorious is this thing we call life?!

How beautiful is this humanity?!  


PS - If you're wondering why I'm getting so metaphysical these days, it is because I am stuck in an airport once again.  :-)