Three older women dressed as hippies; headbands, peace symbols, suede fringed vests and flowered bell bottoms, were having a blast doing a photo shoot in the mall yesterday at one of those specialty photo booths, where for a price you can be anyone and get a photo to prove it.
I stopped to watch because my head has been in the 60’s and 70’s lately.
I am on vacation and doing a lot of reflecting back on my life, and I had a moment of hippie sappiness.
My life up to this point is meaningless and pointless, a common realization to most who have lived past the age of 50 or so. But the hippie sappiness came when I remembered that the only thing that gives life meaning is love.
I know, break out the Beatles records!
Work is tedium, boring and meaningless. I am just a worker bee, like countless millions of others, serving the machine, making the select few rich. Most of us work for the ‘machine’ which enslaves us with debt and never rewards us for being good or working hard at anything. It promises us if we behave and conform and do more then maybe we can be more. A promise that fails to deliver.
The only parts of my life that were not a continual grey are those times I experienced love. It is love that brings colour to our existence.
Being in love is like taking a deep breath of fresh spring air. You expand and grow. Love is the only thing worth living for.
If you focus on anything else, your world will become very small, you will contract into a very tight ball.
I once met the happiest man in the world. He drove a tow truck, worked in a garage, not much money, hard hard work, long hours. His life had a lot of drama. However, he positively beamed when he talked about his wife and kids. He told me then, a long time ago where I should put my heart. He had his priorities right. I should have listened.
Love is everything. Family. Friends.
All else is nothing.