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I know there is no answer, and that aging causes the elders, like me, to think that yesterday was much more innocent. I am not sure it ever was. At the heart of it all, there are still the same biological alterations to moving forward: birth, love, and birth again. The cycles and the human brain for making sense of it are not new nor will they ever be. At the same time, nothing is ever the same.
As I think about seconds and minutes moving forward, I also think that one's perception of the chronology is the beauty of it all. Most spend their adult life trying to make sense of the patterns of a lifetime and what it is supposed to mean.
That is the karma, both good and bad, and therefore, the beauty of graying, contemplating, wondering, and recycling. Time is a human invention and only it will tell what it is all supposed to mean.
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