Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle.
Happiness never ceases by being shared.
On my birthday, my brother shares with me, photographs taken months ago - my nephew in my lap, fascinated by a statue of the Buddha. On my birthday, these images help remind me to believe.
My little baba of a nephew, my beloved Twitter family, my real flesh and blood family, my wonderful friends - will this be the age of miracles? Will this be the year that I wake from the dream of illness and emerge unscathed? Except no-one ever emerges unscathed. Even Gandalf, after eight days of battling the Bairog in fire, darkness and shadow, on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, perishes even as he slays the fiery-thonged beast. This is how Tolkien describes the Bairog, this is how lupus is for me..
"Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, no more than man-high yet terror seemed to go before it. They could see the furnace-fire of its eyes from afar; its arms were very long; it had a red tongue... and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings...
But Gandalf the Grey is sent back as the more powerful, shining White Wizard. Could that happen to me?
Maybe, if I believe enough in the magic of miracles.
But for now - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!