On being truly alive and conscious.

I think about life. Virtually every day. About being alive. And conscious. I have to. I need a daily reminder. So that I don’t go on cruise control. Otherwise, I might become a robot. Robots abound. All around me. Or so I suspect. People who aren’t conscious of being alive. Because they don’t actively think about it. They merely go through the motions of living. Quiz them about the day. And they don’t recall anything significant. They haven’t thought about being alive. Maybe I’m wrong about that. Like I say, it’s only a suspicion. A guess. I compel myself to search for meaning and purpose. Every day. That’s why I write. My blog. Daily love letters, too, to my Italian true love. Even on days when I’m with her. In the flesh. Or on Skype.  I need her. In my life. In meaningful and loving ways. For sustenance. For vitality. She helps me feel truly alive. So do others. Especially my cats Loverboy and Chenuska. They emit loving vibes. Reminding me that I’m in love. Not only with them. But with life. Yes, conscious life. –Jim Broede