Alright, let’s ask me the fatal question. What in the Hell makes me happy? To look at me and read the bulk of what I have written one could easily make the assumption that the answer is “nothing!” That would not however be correct. Much like the rest of the human world, the basics can suffice. Being a male in gender, an impromptu smile by a woman still has an infectious effect, as does I am bound to tell, the unexpected gesture of flirty exercise of a woman’s eyes. And certainly the animal appreciation of one’s animal grace. The camaraderie of other men in mutually celebrating the existence of the appreciation of being respectively male and female in an enduring bond of same. A sincere handshake with one of my fellow contributors signifying a mutual enterprise that undertaken promises an equal level of adventure as it does success. The unconscious innocence of joyful children as they go about their play of discovering the world demonstrating an ingenuity that defies one’s own lost perceptions of their own level of same. Travel to interesting places that have a connection to their past through either tradition or the force of enduring landscape. The growth of experience and subsequent learning of new facets of the same must be a required daily activity lest life seem dull and gray.
Though my biological age may act as a natural harness to rein in my exposure to such pleasure by virtue of diminished opportunities, my appetite for enjoyment of being human amidst the attempts of others to equally be so makes it worth to remain a little longer in this plane of existence. As altruistic and high minded as this may sound, I have to ask myself how can material pleasures compete beyond supporting mental fictions of the past that due to the nature of mortality and change must inevitably fall be the wayside. The well-worn analogy of path so prevalent in world mythology must be applied for even if one finds themselves geographically inert, the great baggage train of humanity and the chaos of the universe provides an ever endless parade past one’s window. Animal appetite and human desire notwithstanding, the ongoing connection with this progression is what makes up one’s appreciation of themselves as being alive.