Even when I was very young, lest those feelings consume me completely and almost instantly, my response to sadness was to encourage and use the feelings to create something new in my world. Rather than the intensity of emotions driving me further into sadness merely in the knowledge of that intensity, I seemingly delighted in the darkness for its better power to inspire what I value most - intense passion for life, intense experience, the depth and power of my own heart, and a seeming gift for voicing it out into nature and history in ways somewhat accurate to the feelings, somewhat unique and sometimes interesting to others. If it weren't for a strong lifelong instinct to spend my moments and energies creating, extreme passions from light to dark would have driven me to my end long before now ... and almost nearly did on a number of occasions when I had briefly forgotten that safer way to look at sadness.

I now understand intellectually what before I'd only innately felt - If we genuinely believe life to be better than the absence of life, we must always welcome, even celebrate, whatever emotions come to us. We must be driven passionately to create anew no matter their nature. Just as we seek happiness and delight, and for the very same reasons, we must seek sadness and despair. As whole human beings, we have the gift of it all. To know ourselves as fully as is possible in our own lifetimes, we must deliberately explore and develop all that's true of us as individuals. In doing so, and because darkness and light are possible to us all, our personal explorations, discoveries, knowledge, wisdom and expression of ourselves has the very real potential to connect in authenticity with others like us and benefit them in ways almost entirely unpredictable by any.

In a word, I remain a partner to, even a worshiper of sadness by loving it as best as I'm able and denying myself fear of it. That fear is rooted in a false belief - a belief in eternity, in permanency, in "perfection", in an unchanging nature. I accept change, impermanence, imperfection, and the inevitability of the undesireable. I accept them as necessary to life as any thing other. I accept all of life because the alternative is no life at all. Anyone who claims to authentically love their life, must love it all - even its pains and sadnesses, miseries and madnesses - or cease pretending to authenticity, full love, and full life.

Sadness is life and, if one loves life, must be fed, cherished, and given voice in its time.

What's always missing - enough. I can think of nothing thoroughly missing in today's cultures save for those fresh insights we do not yet have and yet will find indispensible for surviving tomorrow. Nevertheless, there is much in our society of which we have far too little. First and foremost, collectively, we have too little lust for life, far too little passion, far too little love - of self above all else, and of other as the womb in which we live our entire lives. And too, we have far too little of the rational both individually and collectively.

These day, my consistent pet issue is cultural forgetfulness of the individual and their influences from the beginning of their lives and into the unknown future. I've said many time before - it is a continuing crushing tragedy that even a single human being's life passes into obscurity without easy discovery or any discovery at all. We remain sometimes unwillingly and too often willingly numb to the consequence of every single life upon our own. We minimize the literal miracle that is every life and, because we humans truly are amazing creatures, we ironically minimize the miracle that is every human life. Surely, we celebrate a few among us with the usual obvious reasons. Still, we ought to celebrate and preserve all that we can of every human life no matter its length or quality. Each of us creates and harbors experiences, learning, understanding, wisdom and creative insight possible only to ourselves and recorded only in our own minds. That a single one of our unique moments is lost forever to cultural memory is more than one can bear once one has realized the true value of it. That uncounted numbers of these priceless moments are lost forever is a loss of authentic treasure which cannot be absorbed and coped with in any single mind nor, I believe, absorbed and coped with by the collective mind of the species. Still, we must individually and collectively come to understand the nature of a single moment of a single life, the value of it, the enormous tragedy in the passing of it, and the inestimable value that is lost to us all that nothing can be gained in the future from that single moment of that single life because no discoverable record was made.

Our societies have little to nothing formal and fundamental in place in their cultures for preserving as much of each and every life as is practically possible for easy discovery, learning, understanding and integration into general wisdom by future generations. I do what I can to preserve the contents of my memory, my mind. It is far from easy and, even feeling as I do about the issue, consistent motivation is a challenge. There are certainly others who feel as I do, do as I do, feel more, do more. Still, there are genuinely only a few in our numbers who see what's true, see what's needed, and make an attempt to do what's needed.

That's what's missing. That's our greatest loss. That's our greatest tragedy as a species.

My consistent intent in times spent with others is always to both give and to receive in kind through conversation, shared experiences, laughing and crying, noise and silence, good food, good drink, good music, etc. Neither giving nor receiving is sufficient alone. In solitude, I'm constantly exploring nature and the stories, ideas and wisdom of others contained in books or in any other sort of print, in movies, television, music, art, craft, the internet etc., and then spending more or less equal time in self-expression through art, crafts, music, and most especially writing. My practices in solitude are similar to my desired social life - I take in all I can experience, and I attempt to give back at least as equally, often preferably more. To me, this is the literal and most authentic meaning of spirituality - breathing. I see no reason at all why a truly healthy approach to one's solitary life ought not be appropriate for one's social life. But, of course, there is no true separation of the two. What our inner and outer lives share in common is "life". All life, human life being no exception, needs the complete cycle of breath - give and take. We cannot live exclusively in exhalation or as givers, nor can we live exclusively in inhalation or as takers. Both are anathema to life in isolation from the other. We absolutely must have an active inner life, but we must also have an active outer life which includes relationships with others of our kind. My assumption when with others is they sense the same truth, if not entirely explicitly in their own minds. We all wish to honor and share who and what we are at any one moment with those around us and, for the sake of essential balance, we must wish equally to receive from others what they have to offer in great appreciation.

It's perhaps easy to think of breathing as only a metaphor outside of a literal breath, however, breathing, which we so often associate only with our lungs, involves our entire selves in very literal ways. Perhaps, if we spoke of literal breathing more frequently than we speak of the more vague "spiritual", our individual and collective spiritualities would be more "down to Earth", more practical, more truthful. As a natural result, our daily lives, both inner and outer, would be healthier than they are.

Breathing is essential ... in all of its variants. For a full life, one simply needs to breath, to give and to take. It is more than metaphor for life - it's life itself. When with others, I prefer to authentically breath, to genuinely live. Balanced give and take.

As someone else has pointed out, QaR is a great way to wake up for the day and, because I have the consistent luxury of time for reflection, my careful attempt to form an answer is often enough the most meaningful thing I accomplish on days like this one. Questions seem to be my religion, if I can be said to have any religion at all. To me, they're synonymous with passion and, without passion, life doesn't endure. The satisfaction of answers is only ever temporary. Questions drive us, but answers do not. Answers point direction, but questions are the engine of life.

There's a continual struggle between those who worship their answers and believe in their finality and those who worship questions and believe answers are but a path to more questions. I'm one of the latter. I don't believe there are enduring answers - only enduring questions. Indeed, a workable answer is only possible through asking the right question but, of course, one's answer is only temporary. Change is inevitable, everywhere and everywhen. Questions remain, answers change.

I've become quite the collector of questions both of those here at Gaia's QaR and from many other sources because of the question's power to wake the mind, the body, the spirit, and keep us consistently present. One of my favorite collections of questions is Barbara Ann Kipfer's "4000 Questions for Getting to Know Anyone and Everyone". Her book is great for the purpose suggested by the title - and you'd be surprised how resistant most people are to this exercise - but, to me, the book is far more useful as "4000 Questions for Getting to Know Yourself". To deliberately ask yourself some of these questions is to actively form who and what you are rather than default to more passive and haphazard personal development. How can you know what you think unless you actively ask? How can what you think be properly rather than carelessly formed? Books like this one prompt you in just about every potential area of your life and, in my experience and as you might expect, the 4000 questions lead to thousands more not mentioned in the book.

Other books I'd suggest:

"The Book of Questions" by Gregory Stock
"The Conversation Piece" by Bret Nicholaus and Paul Lowrie
"If ... (Questions for the Game of Life)" by Evelyn McFarlane & James Saywell
"If 2 ... (500 New Questions for the Game of Life)"
"How Far Will You Go?" by Evelyn McFarlane
"Would You?: Questions to Challenge Your Beliefs" by Evelyn McFarlane

and many more like them.

All in all, it seems the quality of at least a human life is deeply related to the quality and quantity of its questions, its passions, its inherent curiosity. The power or influence of a life is measured in its breadth and its depth, both of which are attained through questions.

We at Gaia want to change the world actively rather than through our historical passivity. Questions and Reflections is one of the most obvious expressions of that intent. Deliberate questions breed deliberate lives which contribute to deliberate rather than accidental change.

I'm certain I'd attempt to do far less in a single day than I attempt now, but I'd feel free to practice more frequently or always that art of making a single moment - and every moment - seem an entire lifetime.

My greatest passions are travel and exploration, people and their fascinating stories, unspoiled nature, reading, writing and graphic & fine arts - among so many others. With limited time, I have to limit the sincere devotion I can give to many areas in favor of depth of exploration and understanding and contribution in others. I'm forced to prioritize rather than follow the winds of my curiosity freely. Without that time limit, I could devote genuinely intense study to every writer I read and then indulge in truly thorough reflection and response to them in my own writing. With unlimited time, I would have the potential to see - truly see - far more of our world than I already have and I'd have the opportunity to spend the time needed to live and love the places, their natures and their people. Of course, unlimited time would mean not only greater capacity for depth, but greater capacity for breadth of knowledge. I do and would greatly treasure more of both in all for which I feel a passionate curiosity.

So too, I could devote as much time as is necessary to fully appreciate each artist I'm drawn to and have ample time to integrate the spirit of their art into the spirit of my own. Of course, I'm passionate about so many other topics in my life, not the least of which is love for and relationships with others. I can and am willing to feel genuinely intense love for many in my life, but a longer lifespan would give me the capacity for far more genuine, far more intense love and for many more than a limited lifespan allows. Time, however, isn't the primary issue. We all have limited capacities thus complicated by limited time. If there were no actual limits to our abilities, if I were able to instantly connect with the deepest spiritual intensities with every human being with whom I come into contact - and they with me - time wouldn't be an issue even now.

To me, life equals the capacity for love. Without life, there can be no passion, no love. The love one can feel is limited by the health and duration of one's life. Longer life doesn't necessarily equal greater capacity for love in everyone. For me personally, it does. Often, passions seem so great they threaten to burn me to oblivion in an instant. Ironically, even knowing those dangers, I wish for much more. Why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't anyone able and willing to live and to love wish for more life, for more love, for more reason to live and to love?

Of course, I reject the notion of "time" as an artificial and trivial measurement in favor of the very real phenomenon of change and the threat of undesireable changes. Truly, we do not wish more time, but rather less undesireable change.

But, that's another story for another day.

I'm consistenly amazed at how many varieties of "listening" there are and can be. I "really listen" to others as frequently as I'm able - usually many times each day - but it's my nature and, I believe, the nature of us all to be reserved in our attentions just as we are cautious in our expression. Truly open offering and open receiving cannot be sustained for long periods or indulged too frequently. It's physically, psychologically, "spiritually" exhausting even for the talented and practiced. We give and we receive in necessarily small and only periodic doses. It's the best we can do.

Authentic "listening" can be an aweful thing for the listener and, in my experience, a truly fearful thing for the one open to be heard. To open one's spirit so completely isn't for the squeamish. It's an incredibly brave and admirable thing to open oneself to such connection and it's entirely understandable when we cannot or will not do it. "Fearlessness", if it is ever achieved in nature - and achieved through enormous effort - will be a very new thing. Consistenly enough, I hear far more than I'm able to listen. I believe we all do. Authentic listening requires the greatest portion of our truly awake spirit. It's always a wonderfuly thing that we can and are willing to do it. I firmly believe that, instinctively - at least for us naked apes - we are passionate to listen to it all, but our inescapable reality is we cannot adapt to the aweful flood of spoken and unspoken voices. We keep our innate and passionate curiosity in check because such curiosity fully expressed would likely kill us individually and possibly collectively.

To "really listen" is surely an act of genuine love so unbelievably powerful as to wholly consume us - the loved and the lover. There is little question - we must listen, we must love, we must live, but we must do so reasonably, sustainably.

A baby step forward is still progress. That we concern ourselves with the quality of our openness is an amazing step beyond the younger days of our species and what once were essential fears.

Come to think of it, an inescapable element to "being present in the moment" is for you to personally define what "present" and "moment" and "now" mean. It's the essential nature of language that we must all define the meanings of words from our own experiences, understanding and passions. For us humans, thinking is practically impossible without language. If you're to judge your own wakefulness, you'll need to think and you'll most likely need language to do it. The most meaningful language for you is the language only you could construct. Don't ever accept anyone else's definitions for "present" or "moment" or "now" - or any other words for that matter - above your own. Their definitions won't work for you, not entirely. You'll always have to adjust them to fit your point of view. There's no avoiding it. You might adjust your point of view so it seemingly fits theirs temporarily, however, in the end, their viewpoint will melt away in favor of your individual perspective. You'll eventually have something that's somehow more than what they thought and what you thought separately in the beginning. That's ever-present and personal evolution but, it will always and necessarily be your point of view. That's all you have to judge how you're doing. It's the best you have and can have.

At the least, try to be reasonable and genuine in defining "now", "present" and "moment" for yourself and in judging whether or not you're truly and consistently awake. Only you can really know. Only you can judge according to your own set of values.

Let your eye influence your I, and let your I influence your eye. Respect what others have to say and give it fair reflection but, ultimately, it's up to you to be present in the here and now or not and to determine exactly what that is to you in the first place.

Intensity of life is what you're looking for. As I said elsewhere, apathy is your enemy ... if you love life.

Of course, you'll have to decide for yourself what's "intensity", what's "life", what's "apathy" and what's "love". But that's all part of finding "presence in the moment".

- Naumadd