Many times I sit back and say, 'I can't believe that this is my

Hear the words of Lily Tomlin, the wise jester of our age, who has clothed truth in humor and reflection: “Many times I sit back and say, ‘I can’t believe that this is my life!’ Other times, I feel self-satisfied. I mean, there’s a lot to be proud and thankful for but, nonetheless, it’s just a life!” In these words lies a paradox both profound and liberating: that life is at once wondrous and ordinary, a gift to be thankful for, a journey to be proud of, yet still a fragile and fleeting existence shared by all.

The first flame in her words is that of awe. “I can’t believe that this is my life!” she says, capturing that sacred moment when the soul steps back from daily striving to marvel at its own story. Such awe is the wellspring of humility, reminding us that none of us creates our path alone. The opportunities, the triumphs, the simple privilege of being alive—these are mysteries too great to be claimed as entitlement. They must be received with wonder, as gifts from forces greater than ourselves.

Yet the second truth she acknowledges is self-satisfaction. To sit with one’s life and feel content is no small victory. Many wander the world consumed by envy or regret, unable to look upon their path without bitterness. But Tomlin declares that there is much to be proud of, much to be thankful for. This pride is not arrogance but recognition of the labor endured, the choices made, and the courage summoned. It is the noble satisfaction of a craftsman who sees beauty in the work of his own hands.

The third jewel in her saying is the humbling phrase: “nonetheless, it’s just a life.” Here lies her wisdom, balancing awe and pride with perspective. No matter how extraordinary one’s journey may seem, it remains mortal, finite, part of the human fabric. To remember this is to guard against vanity, for every life, no matter how adorned with achievement, shares the same end. Kings and peasants, artists and warriors—all return to dust. Thus, while we marvel at our stories, we must never forget their fragility.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who ruled over vast dominions and commanded legions. He, too, marveled at his fortune and endured with pride the labors of his office. Yet in his Meditations he reminded himself daily: “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” His wisdom was the same as Tomlin’s: life is at once magnificent and ordinary, something to celebrate but never to idolize.

The lesson for us is clear: let us live in gratitude, marveling at our journey, even when it feels too wondrous to be real. Let us also embrace pride, acknowledging that our efforts and endurance have borne fruit. Yet let us hold these feelings lightly, remembering always that our lives, however grand or humble, are but one thread in the great tapestry of existence. In this balance, we find peace, joy, and humility.

Practically, we may begin each day by pausing in awe at the fact that we are alive, breathing, and capable of love and labor. We may then reflect on what we have accomplished, allowing ourselves the gift of self-satisfaction without falling into arrogance. Finally, we must remind ourselves: “It is just a life.” This perspective helps us remain grounded, compassionate, and free from the illusions of pride or despair.

Thus Lily Tomlin’s words echo as a teaching for generations: be amazed, be proud, be thankful—but remember always the simple humanity of life. For in this truth lies freedom: to live fully, to rejoice deeply, and to walk humbly, knowing that life, in all its beauty, is both wondrous and ordinary, eternal and fleeting, profound and simple.