I woke this morning with the words of Sylvia Plath floating in my head. “I may never be happy, but at least, today, I am content.” That sentiment reminded me of Lauren Bacall, who in a recent interview with Vanity Fair asked, “How can any thinking person in this world be happy?” I am abundantly aware of how lucky I am to have the time to think about my own happiness, because throughout the world, famine, disease and war have stripped countless others of a similar privilege.
Every day animals are senselessly slaughtered. Children go hungry. Women are raped. Gay people are killed. I cannot live without recognizing this truth, and by doing so, appreciate the life that I have been blessed with.
Last year I embarked on a quiet, personal, spiritual journey. I gave up my job, vowed never to be tied to the politics of an emotionless, toxic office environment again, and set upon finding my path, and in that journey, found peace within my soul. I stopped chasing impossible expectations; I sat, I listened to my heart, and I lived with passion.
What I learned from all of this self-reflection was not what I need, but to revere what I already have. Love. I have so much love in my life that it would make any man envious. To borrow a line from Marvin’s Room, where a terminally ill Diane Keaton mutters to her sister Meryl Streep, “I have been so lucky to have loved.”
I have been so lucky to have loved. So here it is. I am 33. On we grow.
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I possess great compassion and seek to be of service to others. 
