Life suspended in the stillness of the air, breath moving in a silent motion that commingles my matter with that of the trees, the birds, the earth, everything—this moment carries with it a sense of humility, a smallness within the vastness of the universe. It is sanctuary within an otherwise entropic existence. In these moments I am alone, yet integrated with all of life, at peace.

In those perfect silent moments when I feel more than my brain can absorb, I sense that my mother and grandmother are part of the air that frees me, and my father is one with the sentinel old vines, vigilant and enduring. I want to live life with the joie de vivre that made Aunt Jean fantastic in her red knit dress at the age of 96 and to be as dignified and full of grace as Peggy was. 

An era is ending. Progress has brought so much prosperity that we live in a state of expectation rather than of gratitude. Imagine a time when using a real pen and paper was the only way to send mail. We have evolved into a culture that moves so fast that we have no connection with the natural rhythms of life. But when I take a moment to be conscious of the air that moves in and around me, I am content just to be alive.