i’m so happy and i’m so peaceful, and the world is full of suffering. i wake up every morning and sit quietly with my eyes closed for 30 minutes, trying to do nothing but be present. happy and peaceful in the present moment. a million thoughts crowd in, but i smile and thank myself for trying anyway. i walk my dog to the park and this makes us both happy, she because she can relieve herself, me because the sweeping beauty of the bay. here is a gorgeous and fit young person on their morning run. here is someone who hasn’t bathed in months, maybe years, muttering to themselves about “pork futures”—people love bacon, he reasons to himself, so pork futures are always a safe bet. the sun is warm, the breeze is cool, everything is perfect. nothing is perfect, everyone is suffering. a joyous woman in her late 30s just died, leaving behind two children and a bewildered community—why her? i am alive, i am breathing and trying to be grateful for the fact that i am breathing, i am alive. i have my parents, but for how long? i have my dog, but for how long? i have my friends, but for how long? i have my life and breath, but for how long? right now, right here. it’s so beautiful, everything is so beautiful. everything is so tragic, it’s so tragic. a good friend’s good friend just hung himself; his son found him. i take a sip of wine. i don’t cry. my heart is beating. i love my daughter. i don’t have a human daughter and don’t know what that’s like, but i love my canine daughter. i love my niece and nephew. i love that they are alive, i love that they are breathing. i love that you are alive, that you are breathing, that you are even still reading this. respond to this, send me a sign of life. i would love it because it would be a reminder that you are alive, that you are breathing. in this present moment. i talked to a friend this week: she is going through a very scare health scare, but she feels calm and fearless. i love her. i talked to a friend this week: she wants me to edit her collection of poetry about the times when she was a sweet young thing. i love her. i talked to a friend this week: seemingly out of nowhere, she told me she was depressed, and collapsed into my arms, crying. i love her. i talked to a friend this week: she held my hand while we listened to Lennon and McCartney in HiFi. i love her. people say that’s love, people say that’s not love. people say a lot of things. i love them all, and i see them suffering. the world says so much, and it’s full of suffering. in this moment, i am grateful to see it all so clearly. i am grateful that i can even see at all. i love you.