Chai is the Hebrew word for life, so let’s celebrate it. Let’s raise our glasses to us, to ourselves, to each other, and drink deeply to the good chai and all its daily wonders.
The only ones for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars … — Jack Kerouac
Here’s to the dreamers, the seers, the believers and deep sleepers.
Here’s to secret keepers, weepers, sighers and wishers.
Here’s to the pioneers, the forerunners, the trailblazers and groundbreakers, the innovators, the strivers and succeeders.
Here’s to the thinkers and feelers, the followers, the resolvers, the carers and creators and supporters.
Here’s to careerists, to workers, to healers and helpers and everyday heroes.
Here’s to the inbetweeners, the 9-5ers, the punch-in / punch-outers, the stepping stoners, the mobile phoners, the just-get-byers and one-more-dayers.
Here’s to the cafe lingerers, the hummers and singers, the coffee spoon clinkers and fresh air drinkers.
Here’s to the ones that wake up, back to sun, already undone as the alarm sounds their impending day.
Here’s to the ones that jump out of bed roaring, ready to attack the invaders of peace.
Here’s to wallflowers blossoming in corners.
Here’s to late-bloomers who make the sweetest flowers.
Here’s to the broken who are just on the mend, and here’s to the soothers with honey in their hush.
Here’s to dwellers of the Land of Someday, the citizens of Maybe and the clairvoyants of Tomorrow. Here’s to the keepers of the Past, and the ones that live on the high mountain of It’s Possible.
And here’s to the moments that make this life rich and wonderful and, well, worth rising for.
Evenings you could drink in a cup, the sun setting in resplendence, the trees lush and green and waving good-bye to a day fully lived.
Hundreds of hands raised and swaying like sea anemone in the strobe lights at a raucous concert and everyone nodding yes and music pumping in hearts and stomachs.
Hands fingering tall weeds and grass as you stroll.
A friend lovingly touching your hair.
Pink sky, blue lake.
Cities still sleeping at 4 am, lights across water twinkling.
Long stretches of road to be driven down, roads winding leading to stories yet untold, country roads with stories in the overgrown brush and untended fields.
Idling atop your car, looking out onto the world with quiet meditation and good music instrumenting what words cannot express.
Getting fresh air, getting fresh thoughts.
Hope spoken in ocean spray and whispering winds.
Teaching toddlers to speak Pirate and tickle the clouds with their feet on the swing set.
Soy lattes made with love by singing baristas.
The world made magical by sunshine, strength, and possibility.
But if it just hurts too much, and you can’t see the sun for the clouds, and you feel like everything in your life is broken,
Keep your head up. Keep your heart strong.
Celebrate one thing and celebrate it anyway, and distract yourself with something beautiful, knowing that this too shall pass.