Life isn't to be found
during that year out in Australia;
You are not going to connect with your inner self
on the deserted plains of a Fijian island;
You will not have an epiphany about your childhood in Europe,
no matter how cheap the interrail ticket is;
An explanation of your life and everything within it
will not be waiting for you on your triumphant return.

Life is in everyone you know
and how you relate to them;
it is in the reality of minor things;
such as awakening at 5.50am
and remembering to put the bin out;
in every cup of tea you've ever made
in your own kitchen, and all the drinks
you've ever shared with anyone
from a fondly recalled cocktail with a past love,
to the cup of coffee you had
as you passed the time of day with a stranger
taking about destinations
while waiting for your train.

It's in all the classroom lectures you've ever attended,
even in the modules you dropped out of;
in every prayer you've ever said,
no matter if they were answered or not;
in being thankful for those that were answered,
and in the acceptance of those that were left unheard;
It is in giving praise where due,
in all the compliments expressed
and the insults that did not stick.

Life doesn't come gift-wrapped,
but sometimes you have to peel away a few layers
to find out what's really underneath.
Your perception of yourself
goes beyond the bathroom mirror:
what's important is how you are reflected
in the hearts of others.

Life is in the mind's collection of lonely times spent
yearning for the warmth of another,
in each hug we have given and received;
in the quietness of solitude when we are grateful
for the touch of others,
and have time to digest our own thoughts
instead of trying to consume junk food philosophies.

It is in the moment when we are not afraid to act
to regain lost time, to seize the day
instead of counting the days spent
just barely getting through.

It doesn't lie in every poem you ever wrote,
but in what inspired those poems
to be written in the first place.

It's in your mother's eyes,
your father's grip,
and knowing you should cherish them
while still alive.

It's in the smiles you give to strangers,
the parties thrown for friends,
a well-expressed passage in a book that makes you think about life
and what it has to offer,
or just sharing a feeling and recognising
that yes, another person feels the same.

It is in the beauty of Earth
and how alive our bodies feel
even if you don't understand
how everything works,
how the universe is,
or how man came to be.

It is in the balance of God against
the destruction of man
and our potential as a race
to save our planet;
it's in being part of something
bigger than yourself: a community,
a book group, an internet writing site,
anything that feeds that need
to connect with people and communicate.

It's in the freedom to choose,
to stand up and say 'no' sometimes,
especially for those that do not have a voice.

It is here in everyone,
in whatever you want to call
the essence of existence: your heart,
your soul, your mind.

It is in the breaths you take as you read this poem.

Ultimately, life is in every decision we make,
the responsibilities we take on as a result of our actions,
and the happiness we find
from just being able to be
accountable for ourselves and say,
'this is me, as I am,
and no one can deny that
or take it away'.

You may not like yourself,
you may not have all the answers.
No one does all the time.
The secret is in sharing
that little bit of knowledge
that you have gleaned so far from life,
and from building a network
of what we do know and understand,
a discernible path may emerge.





Footnote: I actually did get woken up at 5.50am by my neighbour putting his bin out. Which was a good thing, as I had forgot to leave my bin out. After doing so, I went back upstairs and wrote the first draft of this poem.

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