Sleepless Squirrel

Squirrels in Harvard Yard... How could this be possible? They are supposed to be hibernating in this deep December -- chilly, snowy, icy, windy, no-hope-for-food-hunting New England winter. Who woke them up before the spring sunshine flows into their nest? Most important of all, how many chances do they have to get back to sleep and earn their opportunities to survive through...

How to get back to sleep...

A friend caught this msg; he said he would be happy if he could eat them (I know he was joking though). Maybe, I should say, maybe that's not a bad idea for their own good: they'll die anyway; it'll keep them from suffering the winter they don't deserve.

Maybe not. Maybe "it's the journey that matters; not the destination" (thanks Hao-yuh). Everyone will die some day; lose everything; lose love, family, friends, career, music; even lose the right to choose suffering, starving, hurting and being hurt, struggling. However, we always keep our faith in life: we'll rock sooner or later; the tulip of life will blossom one day if we don't give up. We harvest the fruits along the way of our journey; we sip the sweet serum, enjoy what life endows us, enjoy what lovers, families, friends spare and share with us, and we pick up every little piece on our way, brew them, store them for the future. Every story, we carefully, deliberately preserve it into our database of memory.

Journey. We never know how far we can go. We never know what would happen tomorrow. We experience expecting, exciting, restlessness, nervousness, hesitating, wavering, doubting, disappointing, heartbreaking, surprising, desperating, hoping, contenting, satisfying, loving... We savor all kinds of flavors; we get to enjoy each one of them though they may be out of our control most of the time.

Journey. No matter if tomorrow is the destination.

Journey.