gubster's Diaryland Diary

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misery likes company

I recall some years ago on a greyhound bus I was approached by a stranger who talked of all the heavy and strange topics. The meaning of life, existence of god, candy floss, death, puppets, religion, etc. Highway 10 looked so much sorter on the map that day. He carried no luggage but had a bizarre toothless grin, a large crazy ginger beard, wild eyes and a straw hat full of fresh flowers. When I finally figured out he wasn't trying to sell anything not even redemption or religion , I asked him why out of all the empty seats on the bus he had felt the need to sit beside me and offload the thoughts running through his brain , Why not just talk about the weather like any other random stranger. He simply said it was the light and it drew him to me.

It seems that the light, no the beacon, has been switched back on. I am surrounded by strange and broken people. I donít know how but I manage to collect them, as I walk through these streets. They are more than happy to spill all the secrets of their life in their shade of reality, to me, yes me who they have just met. I feel like a lighthouse.

How then do I remain so happy in the midst of it all, all the stories , all the drama, all the sad lives, all the madness? As I think I can say that in more than general terms that I am indeed happy, perhaps I see what life could/can be like if wrong decision or no decisions are made. Today I feel so very lucky to have my life, and so I will put up with living in smelly England, because I have seen this week that life could be so different ( I could have been born here !) and so life struggles on in this strange land that looks like home and sounds like home but is the opposite of home.

8:21 p.m. - 2007-12-17

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