I really enjoy pointing out the amazing part of being, the little things, the butterfly that appears unexpectedly that flutters and passes by, the stars in the sky, an amazing coincidence of happenstance that flutters by. I don’t assign any of that to someone or something, inexplicably, unexpectedly, deciding that this tiny being on an insignificant ball of rock should suddenly command attention. It makes no sense. I prefer the idea that I make my own meaning, and I choose my own destiny. I choose to be a good person, and I choose to be who I want to be. I don’t need a Sky Daddy to tell me to be good. I just am good.