While showering outside tonight at dusk in the water heated by today’s sun I realized that showering thusly in the cooling backyard was the best thing. Then drying off, then talking with my love, and now writing you, are each successively the best thing, I am convinced. And I realize that I have successfully moved from pretending that every act of my life is the best thing, to it actually becoming true. Impossible, you say? Too simplistic: that merely by telling oneself that one is living the best life, over time, by the mere recurrence of the thought, the possibility, the becoming aware of the present passing moment, a life can actually become great continuously? Too obvious, too simple! Why, if that were true, anyone could do that. Nonsense.

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