Be generous, they say. Be nice, be helpful. W Somerset Maugham wrote a book in the later part of his life where he concluded that the meaning to life was goodness. His reasoning was, to shorten a whole book down to one sentence, was that goodness can't be interpreted like, for instance, the truth can be, it is simply the one thing. Goodness is goodness.
Be generous to your fellow man, treat others as you would want to be treated yourself. It's a simple message, one we should remember when we leave the house in the morning. Keys, wallet, a sunny disposition.
I know I'm guilty, grumpy old me leaving the house. Don't speak to me until I've had my coffee, maybe two. People on mobile phones on the tram, other's with iPods sounding, chick, chick, chick, some of the reasons I try to avoid catching public transport.
But, it's also woman in click, click, click high heals walking behind me on Bourke Street. Grrr! I scowl.
I forget.
It's funny how we all forget.
I thought life was meant to be getting easier, with all of this technology? I suspect, it is getting harder.
I don't think it is getting harder because it is, actually, getting harder, I think it is getting harder because that's the excuse we all use to make allowances for everything in our lives and, somehow, along the way, we started to believe our own spin.
I helped two sets of tourists with directions recently, a bi-product of walking to work. And I, literally, helped a little old lady across the road, carried her bags. They were all so grateful, if made me smile and walk away with a spring in my step, thinking, that's the meaning of life, such simple things.
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