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I
wake up to a life without purpose. Acting a life instead of
living it, it's an easy step to deciding the role has no
meaning. This a sad and dangerous thing, feeling that it
would make no difference whether I were here or not. It's
incorrect too, according to all I've learned to believe. But
at least when I lose track of the joy, forgetting that it lies in
what is given and at hand, in giving, I am still blessed with the
awareness that the fault is in my looking and not in the thing
seen.
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