For the first time in my life at the age of 35, I feel alive. In fact, everything around me seems to be more alive. I have opened up my senses to the world around me. I hear music down deep in my soul, and I notice the beautiful scent of the weeds in a field. I am hypnotized by the deep love and tenderness a mother shows her sick child. I have realized that I should not try to change this world around me to become more like myself, but to enjoy and accept the beauty in it. It is this belief that causes me to feel alive.

I have begun reading a book called, "Even the Stars Look Lonesome," by Maya Angelou. This book so far, is becoming one of my favorites of hers yet. Several of the passages have special meaning to me, perhaps in a unique way than the author intended.

One of the passages that holds special meaning to me is one in which she speaks of sensuality. When I read it, I think of being alive. It reads:

"There are some who are so frightened by the idea of sensual entertainment that they make even their dwelling places bleak and joyless. And what is horrible is that they would have others share that lonely landscape. Personally, I'll have no part of it. I want all my senses engaged. I would have my ears filled with the world's music, the grunts of hewers of wood, the cackle of old folks sitting in the last sunlight and the whir of busy bees int he early morning. I want to hear the sharp sound of tap dancing and the mournful murmur of a spiritual half remembered and then half sung. I want the clashing of cymbals of a marching band and the whisper of a lover entreating a beloved. Let me hear anxious parents warning their obstreperous offspring and a pedantic pedagogue teaching a bored class the mysteries of thermodynamics. All sounds of life and living, death and dying are welcome to my ears."