Pity Is A Benign Form Of Abuse.

The Moment I Understood This - That My Parkinson's Was The One Thing I Wasn't Going To Change - I Started Looking At The Things I Could Change, Like The Way Research Is Funded.

I Have No Argument With Those Who See In Organized Religion A Template Or An Imperative To Live Life According To A Prescribed Set Of Beliefs. Just Give Others The Room, Within The Laws Of Civil Society, To Believe Or Not Believe Whatever They Like.

I Think There's A God And I Know It's Not Me.

Turning Fully Toward The Glass, I Consider What I See. This Reflected Version Of Myself, Wet, Shaking, Rumpled, Pinched, And Slightly Stoop, Would Be Alarming Were It Not For The Self-satisfied Expression Pasted Across My Face. I Would Ask The Obvious Question, 'what Are You Smiling About?' But I Already Know The Answer: 'it Just Gets Better From Here.'

My Age Makes Me Think How Valuable Life Is. How Bad Is Something Like Parkinson's In Relation To Not Having Life At All?