Utmost

I'm glad to be alive. My eyes are blinking now and my brain is fully functional allowing me to tap each key on the keyboard to produce a coherent mass of words that come together in your brain and mine to become new thoughts, new ideas: daughters of invention, not mine but compiled from what I see around me and the thoughts of people of old. My heart is beating fast (as is yours), driving the blood around my body and making everything work together in perfect synchronisation.

Your eyes are moving across this sentence, scanning; and as they move you suddenly become aware of yourself and aware of the fact that you are you; aware of your thoughts, aware that each blink of your eyelids, though involuntary, though taken for granted, when taken away becomes an essential factor for survival. People with leprosy used to go blind because they weren't able to feel when they needed to blink, and so their eyes became drier and drier until the sight was gone.

You are alive because you can blink, and because you can do so many other things you never think about everyday.

And now, me and you, we become conscious of the little clock below the computer screen, the blink of the colon showing the passing of each minute, irretrievable, gone forever.

And we think, time is so precious. Each group of fifteen minutes can accomplish much. And it is inexpressibly good to be alive right this moment. Shouldn't we give our full attention to whatever it is we're doing at the moment, pay full attention to whoever we're talking to at the moment, do our utmost for His highest?