Sounds like a cliché, doesn’t it?

Many seem to think they’ve found the answer, eager to offer it up like a remedy. The question has been watered down by endless voices, and still, here I am, adding my own small golden thoughts to this giant pile of treasure.

Is meaning something we stumble upon, or something we quietly create? Some discover it in love, in faith, in the hush of forests, in family and art.  Some shape it, too, in the ways they live – a simple act of treating others as they wish to be treated.

Maybe the truest answer is that there is no final answer at all.  Perhaps that’s what makes it beautiful – a mystery that asks nothing of us, no requirements, just to live in our moments. 

My request is that we honor our moments with purpose, for every breath of our lives brushes against another soul.

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