Well

This morning I felt so well.  I even ran for the tram, just because I could, only half a  block, but it is only about the second or third time I have ever been able to do it.  I remembered the time in form two, my last at Malvern Grammar, when I got talking to a boy after school who said come back to my place, about the only time anyone ever said that to me, and then we walked to the tram and it came and he ran to the stop and caught it, but I could not run that short distance, and was never invited again.  Today it was just up Elizabeth Street to catch the tram at Collins Street to save the walk to Burke Street, how silly was that, except running for it was a real thrill.

A bit later I got to thinking how this could be my last healthy day.  What should I do on my last day?  Shouldn't we live every day as if it were going to be our last?  But if I truly knew it was really my last day, I would not do anything extraordinary but would live a perfectly normal, average day, but a perfect one, as if they all are not.  Much later, home Phillip Adams talked about attitudes to death.  Mine is apparently unusual in that it does not worry me, it is just that I enjoy being alive.  I have no expectation of my consciousness surviving my death, just as it did not exist before I was born, which is not to say my "soul", by which I mean the energey system in my body, would not survive, because energy always survives, but it would dissipate and be absorbed into other energy systems.  My "mind" would be absorbed back into the "universal mind". 

Actually, I have been feeling "well" on and off for a couple of weeks now.  I was going to write about it before, as if it were significant, but it is certainly unusual.