Life Is Good, After All...and That's What

When I Pray, I Never Pray For Myself, Always For Others, Or Else I Hold A Silly, Naive, Or Deadly Serious Dialogue With What Is Deepest Inside Me, Which For The Sake Of Convenience I Call God. Praying To God For Something For Yourself Strikes Me As Being Too Childish For Words. To Pray For Another's Well-being Is Something I Find Childish As Well; One Should Only Pray That Another Should Have Enough Strength To Shoulder His Burden. If You Do That, You Lend Him Some Of Your Own Strength.

Our Desire Must Be Like A Slow And Stately Ship, Sailing Across Endless Oceans, Never In Search Of Safe Anchorage. Then Suddenly, Unexpectedly, It Will Find Mooring For A Moment.

By 'coming To Terms With Life' I Mean: The Reality Of Death Has Become A Definite Part Of My Life; My Life Has, So To Speak, Been Extended By Death, By My Looking Death In The Eye And Accepting It, By Accepting Destruction As Part Of Life And No Longer Wasting My Energies On Fear Of Death Or The Refusal To Acknowledge Its Inevitability. It Sounds Paradoxical: By Excluding Death From Our Life We Cannot Live A Full Life, And By Admitting Death Into Our Life We Enlarge And Enrich It.

I Feel Like A Small Battlefield In Which The Problems, Or Some Of The Problems, Of Our Time Are Being Fought Out. All One Can Hope To Do Is Keep Oneself Humbly Available, To Allow Oneself To Be A Battlefield. After All, The Problems Must Be Accommodated, Have Somewhere To Struggle And Come To Rest And We, Poor Little Humans, Must Put Our Inner Space At Their Service And Not Run Away.

Life Is Good, After All...and That's What Stays With Me, Even Now, Even When I'm About To Be Packed Off To Poland.