Stefanos Xenakis - The Simplest Gift: Every day is a gift. Open it. Don’t throw it away

I MUST HAVE BEEN IN THE FIFTH GRADE, but it feels like yesterday. I remember reading in my textbook that though most people can see, few observe the details of their surroundings. Back then, it didnt make much sense to me.

But I understood its meaning further down the line. I learned how to observe: to take snapshots with my eyes, but mostly with my soul. The snapshots I took were of things that many might consider trivial: a sunset, a flower, a smile, a nod. I began to find beauty everywhere. Even in the ugliness.

Along the way, I started to share the beauty that I found with others. I learned how to connect my life with the lives of other people, and in doing so I found we would become as one. Thats when I realized that this was my true purpose in life.

I discovered I could take chances, face my fears, question my beliefs, and break out of my comfort zone. I learned how to escape the prison of my daily life. I had found freedom every day, every hour, and every minute.

I mastered how to hold my head up high, wear a smile, tell my own truth, say a good word, think before I speak, and work hard on my dreams. I realized that nothing would be served to me on a platter and that I had to earn my own life. Day by day, minute by minute.

A beloved uncle used to say that food only lasts as long as you keep it in your mouth. Thats why you have to chew it well. If you swallow it, thats it. Its gone. The same goes for life. I learned to really taste life as though it was my moms best home-cooked dinner. I learned to savor every moment.

Let me share with you a story that has always resonated with me. A farmer was digging in a field. At some point, his pickaxe struck something hard and it broke. The farmer was furious, and he bent over to see what had broken his axe. It was a box. He opened it and found treasure inside. Just like the farmer, I came to realize that I had to open lifes boxes, even if I didnt like the wrapping. After all, in my experience some of the best gifts come in ugly wrapping. I learned that life itself is a gift.

Finally, I came to accept my missteps and mistakes. I learned to respect them, love them, and, along with them, love myself. That was the key for me. Instead of trying to make fewer mistakes, I let myself be free to make more. And because of this, I actually started to make fewer.

A decade ago, I began writing a notebook of miraclesmy gratitude list. At first, I struggled to find anything to be grateful for, but soon I couldnt stop. Everything I saw was a miracle! The fact that I could speak, that I could walk, that I had a warm bed waiting for me at the end of a hard day. My perception of life had transformed; now I saw that life was overflowing with beauty. I realized that the beauty wasnt in what I saw, instead it was in my very own eyes. How I looked at the world determined the beauty I saw around me.

After that, I always kept my notebook with me. I wrote in it wherever I happened to be: at work, on the train, at homeeverywhere! I filled the lines with precious words, the pages with wonderful miracles, and my bookshelf with countless notebooks.

And then, all of a sudden, something magical happened. One day, I stopped writing for me and started writing for those around me. I began sharing this wonderful thing spilling out of me.

The book you are holding is born of life.

My life. Our lives.

A few short tales and a lot of love.

I hope it helps to share with you the beauty all around us. Even if it only touches one person, this book was worth writing.

IT WAS WORTH ME ARRIVING HERE.

I WAS STARTLED. The phone doesnt often ring at 7 a.m. Its usually me who calls the girls to say good morning.

It was my eldest daughter on the line. She was sobbing. Daddy, Lili died. I found her dead in her cage this morning. Lili was her bunny.

She sobs.

I paused for a long time before answering her:

Avra, honey, how many years have we had Lili?

Not many, Daddy. Five or six.

Oh, Avra... Thats how long bunnies live. More sobs.

From the moment were born, sweetheart, the only sure thing is that one day well die.

Everything begins only to end.

And everything ends only to begin again.

Six years of Lilis life are at least a hundred human years. She had babies; she lived a happy life. She loved and was loved. Not many people have had a life as wonderful as Lilis, honey.

Silence on the other end.

Were all going to go one day, darling. Lili lived more than a hundred human years. How long do you plan on living? Two, three centuries?

A hint of a giggle...

Children need to be aware of the facts of life from early on. They dont need to be cushioned from its realities. I took my fathers shovel, picked up Lili in her box, and collected the girls after school.

Hey, guys, do you want to bury Lili together?

The youngest was thrilled with the idea. The eldest hesitated for a second or two and finally nodded. We went to our favorite hill near our house in Athens, where you can see the sea turn golden in the late afternoon.

We found a spot that wasnt too rocky and I dug a hole. I removed Lili from the box and wrapped her in tissue paper like a little bride. I took her in my arms so I could place her in the grave, but my eldest would have none of it. She pried Lili from me, like a mother taking her baby into her arms. She carefully unwrapped the tissue paper, brought her bunny up to her little face, and gave her a last kiss. She then gently placed her in the grave and put some lettuce leaves next to her, so she wouldnt go hungry.

Close your eyes, my little Lili, she cooed. She put some cyclamens next to her and we covered the grave before marking it with two big stones so we could remember where our beloved bunny was resting.

Then we went for ice cream.

Its all part of life, girls. Everything is one. Its just us people that separate things into good and bad. Rain and sunshine are one; life and death; love and fear; the sea and the mountain; the calm and the storm. Rain follows sunshine, winter follows summer, and bad times follow good. I used to like only the good stuff. Now I like both, I told them, trying to sweeten the pill.

I didnt expect a response, but my youngest gave me the best one:

SO, DADDY, YOURE SAYING THAT YOU LIKE WHAT YOU DONT LIKE?

H ES A FRIEND OF MINE from Thessaloniki, tall guywell over six foot. We used to eat out together every time he came to Athens. The two of us would go for a drink or two. Wine always helped coax out the truths.

On one occasion, we were joking around and my buddy was fondly reminiscing about his father. Then, all of a sudden, he started crying. Softly at first, then harder. In the end he was sobbing. I had no idea why he was crying, nor how to react. I didnt say anything for a while out of respect for my friend.

Hey, buddy, whats the matter? I finally asked him.

My father... He passed away suddenly years ago. I was such a jerk and never told him how much I loved him. I only realized what a great guy he was after hed gone.