Talking In My Sleep

         My daughter asked me what some of my life's greatest surprises have been.             Lif e’s greatest surprise did not land as a sudden epiphany, but rather as a gradual revelation. What began as suspicion in early adulthood, loitering on the edge of my consciousness, gradually wheedled its way front and center and demanded my attention. I had to acknowledge and accept the fact that my persistent agnosticism represented the human condition. Nobody knows what this universe, and the life we experience within its confines, is all about. The wisest people alive today, indeed, those who have ever lived, have no better knowledge or insight into that mystery than I do myself. Yet, some claim with certainty to own the inside scoop: “We are here to learn!” “We were put on this Earth to do good!” “I was created to pursue God’s plan!” … some declare with absolute certitude. Others contend, with equal conviction, that the u...

                 I glance down at my bike's speedometer and note that I am hurtling downhill at 43 miles per hour.  The wind whistles through the ventilation holes of my plastic helmet and caresses my face, which I keep tucked to lower resistance.  Gliding through the nadir of the hard top road my bicycle and I swoop into the ascent of the subsequent rise.  My legs pump while my hands grip the handlebar and my thumbs, in turn, click the bike into lower and lower gears.  The resistance on my legs increases as the momentum from the descent wanes.  Now it’s all push with my legs, which ache from seven previous miles of pedaling through the summer, early- morning mist.  As I draft great gulps of air, the exhilaration of my rapid descent has been fully replaced by the grinding toil of the subsequent climb.  My shirt is soaked with sweat.          ...

    Happiness isn’t the easiest thing to define.  There are all sorts of contingencies, mainly temporal.  Happy moments pop up in the midst of sorrow.  Joy in the form of relief is necessarily preceded by a painful drama.  An amalgam of happy sadness is conveyed by a wan smile.  Mellow joy might be evoked from a poignant, touching vignette steeped in melancholy.  One looks back fondly on cherished moments, but the memories are tinged with regret that they exist only in the past.  Occasions of pure exhilaration, when all cares are cast to the wind, never avoid contamination for long, for the wind blows where it wills, and disquietude returns with the next fickle shift in direction.                 Of happiness I can say this: it is not a purely blissful state, unfettered by threats from without or the aching of wounds that linger within, blemishes that persistently remind of unhappy ...