While driving home from Curves this morning, listening to Mendelssohn on the radio, I drew the conclusion that life is not so much like a box of chocolates (sorry, Forrest Gump) as it is like a concerto. The introduction peaks your interest and after that, just like life, the pace varies with tempo intervals ranging from adagio to presto. Sometimes the anticipation can be intense, leaving us anxiously wondering what will happen next. Here, however, the parallel ends since unlike a recorded concerto that we can replay whenever we want, life is a live performance and cannot be rewound. For sure, though, what you can always count on with both Mendelssohn and life are those few spectacular measures (moments) of things beautiful beyond description -- like the sunbeams that came bursting through the fog laden leafy trees this morning as I reached the top of the hill. Radio or not, I still would have heard a symphony!
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