I’ve been admiringly told lately, on several occasions and by several people, that not everyone thinks like me. Acts like me. Puts as much conscious effort and heart into living as me.

I am baffled.

A) Why not?
B) I’m not that special.
C) I can’t be that special.
D) Is there really any other way?

Life is not any easier for one person than another. We all strive. We all hurt. We all struggle. We all seek. However, Best Friend recently introduced me to the great mystic poet Hafiz. And while he doesn’t answer my questions, he does answer why I have them.

The Vintage Man

Between a good artist
And a great one


The novice
Will often lay down his tool
Or brush

Then pick up an invisible club
On the mind’s table

And helplessly smash the easels and

Whereas the vintage man
No longer hurts himself or anyone

And keeps on


— Hafiz


The fact that there isn’t another way for me, the fact that I’m baffled, is why they admire.

To them, I reply:

The morning glory doesn’t care who owns the fence.


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