I donno, it's personal! I'm reminded of a song I wrote called "want a Burrito?" Never really liked that song much. You can find it here http://www.myspace.com/laffingraincom if you've a mind to see how silly I am/was. So, yea, just rambling here but I wonder how each of us decides what makes life worth living. In regards to this Burrito song I suppose you'd have to know I'm not a good chef. I had two teenagers and a boyfriend to feed and lord knows they weren't offering to bring me din din either. So ok, I made burritos. A friend of mine showed me how to make fried rice from scratch. It was great. I soon became addicted to fried rice. Then I started getting creative with it. I'll just wrap it up in a buttered tortilla thought I, budding chef that I fancied myself to be. We were vegetarians as we don't like to eat what used to move. So this was my solution to the empty spot in the stomach. Something to put there, you know, a girl needs something fast. One can't spend a lot of time in the kitchen and still get everything done that you want to do. I would freeze these burritos and we would put them in the microwave as needed. Sometimes they didn't taste as good as the last batch because if I ran out of onions, then I might try another ingredient, see what that would do for my masterpiece's of delightful gourmet cooking. And of course, my cooking secret is to add curry; especially if there's something in the burrito that you want to cover up.
So one day boyfriend comes up to me as we're passing in the hall. He stops me to ask a question. This man is John Wayne reincarnated. I'm not kidding. They must have came from the same soul cloud. He places his feet apart slightly just in case he has to draw his gun suddenly. He poses. He puts his thumbs in his back pocket so I'll know this is going to be a casual question and I should be relaxed to deliver my answer in return. He grins to disarm me, but I don't have any guns to draw anyway as I just work here. So I assimilate all this body language which is most impressive and try to hear what his words are saying. He even talks like John Wayne and this is getting scarey. He talks slow and methodically as if the weight of the world is loaded into his words. Boom. The words hit the floor and lay there and I know my burrito is not going to solve this mystery or fix this problem.

He asks me if I had a reason for him to live? I know I heard what I heard but I wished he hadn't of asked me as I didn't have the answer and this man was in mortal pain. I'm a healer. I've done faith healing. This man had refused my help, and that's why all I could do was feel his pain and stand there in the hallway, be with him and know that we both were now helpless in this moment.

I don't know where he is now but I hope that he found a reason for living as life is worth living, I just don't know how to put that into words. Since he wouldn't let me put my hands on him I figured out later I could instead of healing him, I could hold him in my mind as a vision. I could think of his name and how happy he's going to be when he finds his healing, and when he does, at the same time he will find the meaning he was searching for in me, he will find it in himself where it was all the time.