She once saw a game show where a man stood in a plexiglass box, and dollar bills swirled around him in a miniature tornado, and thought, Life is like that: you can keep whatever you can catch, but it's all whipping past your head so fast, and how were you supposed to tell which were the big bills and which were the small? How could one train for such an infuriatingly stupid challenge? How could anybody catch all the beauty in the present moment, when, after years of misery, there was suddenly a day when all the wonderfulness of life unexpectedly blew down from all directions at once? And how were you supposed to store joy, for the ugly days when the bleakness returns?
- Cintra Wilson, Colors Insulting to Nature