"Richeldis did not merely love her husband, family, garden, house. She loved Life Itself. For her, consciousness itself was the deepest mystery. Here, on the first Sunday in October, a miracle was being enacted for her - the sky, the cedars, the lawn - merely because she had two round moist lumps the size of grapes connected by tenuous sinews to the nervous system. These infinitely fragile things, eyes, which a single blow, a punch, a knife could obliterate, brought before her the whole visual universe and all its beauty. Likewise - sound, smell, taste and touch were, for Richeldis, the causes of increasing wonder, awe and delight. Life brougt with it the realisation that nothing could be taken for granted, nothing. This consciousness produced in her a profound inner thankfulness which she would have liked to be able to express. THANKS BE! She longed to cry it out, to sing it. She knew that she was so lucky. But thanks be to whom or to what, she did not know" (from A.N. Wilson, Love Unknown) .
That's a clue in the quest for meaning.
# 3 COR - El sentido de la vida - Categoría: Dar o captar (The Meaning of life - Assessing)