My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
The Value We Assign
The value we assign our lives and the significance we assign the lives of others is subjective. Drawing upon a number of sources (cultural, religious, familial) we assign a value, but it remains of value only so long as we maintain it as something of significance and provide reinforcement of the initial valuation.
Labels:
change,
meaning,
perspective
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