The Field of Psalm 103

All flesh is grass, even mine. The more I walk through the field of Psalm 103 in particular, as for man his days are like grass. Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket, and are accounted as the dust on the scales. We were meant to feel this way, like a 5'9 blade of grass, like a 195 pound shadow. If you feel the discomfort of finitude, you're not alone, and you're not crazy. You're human.