Thursday, Jul. 29, 2004 - 11:35 a.m.

10:47 a.m. Wandering around the Los Angeles Flower mart in search of tangible evidence that beauty actually exists I carefully select an array of perennials. The growing assorted bouquet has become an agglomeration of choices sometimes based on scent, color, and shape, sometimes on instinct, sometimes on aesthetics and sometimes on potential longevity.

10:53 a.m. Strolling alone this morning down aisles of sellers determined to unload their merchandise while the proverbial bloom is still on the rose I take a moment to give thanks to the good people at Disney Studios for sharing with us, children of all ages, their concept of �the circle of life.� As the principle is no longer lost on those who consider themselves uber-optimists or perhaps more accurately, those desperate to believe that good things last while the bad falls off and dies by the wayside. Truth exposed, everything comes to an end�eventually�whether it�s good or bad, happy or sad, you want it to or not or are ready and prepared or not.

I suppose in order to be the perpetual optimist that I, bizarrely, deem appropriate the path is to find ways to prolong life�s gifts of happiness while wishing for an expedient death to experiences less joyful. Blinders are usually the best way, another sure fire hit is to avoid situations that knowingly have a small circle, shelf life or impending expiration date.

11:37 a.m. Standing in my kitchen snipping and discarding the dried ends of several dozen wild flowers I can�t help but to visualize how great they�re going to look all lovingly arranged in a beautiful crystal vase and accurately positioned on the dinning room table so that they can be fully appreciated at all times. With eyes closed I begin to smell the warm and cozy feelings each and every time I�ll walk past catching a glimpse of happiness until one day the sweet aroma has turned to a sour stench, the strong and perky flowers are now drooping and withered, and there is a small smattering of petals cluttered around the base of the vase staining the table�s cherry maple finish. In an attempt to recapture what was once so pretty and brought so much joy I�ll grab the ewer rushing it to the kitchen swapping out the stagnant water for fresh, ridding the unsalable blossoms, while giving pep talk to those willing to hold on. Back centered on the table there will be a renewed satisfaction that, although not in its original form, beauty still exists. Happiness has been maintained and the circle of life extended if only for another few days. When the bouquet is finally lost the questions will begin to run through my mind: How soon before I replace them; how soon before I�m ready to spend the time and the energy to carefully shop for the perfect bud; how soon before I will need the flowers to brighten my home again?

12:01 p.m. With the arrangement purposely askew and centered on the furniture I can now stand back and appreciate that it�s difficult not to avoid situations that have strong likelihood of a very small circle. And although the optimist in me finds clever tricks to disguise the timetable with diversion even I can�t avoid the completion of the circle, the end of a cycle, the termination of everything�eventually.

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