There Are Other Cards to Pull (Blog #993)

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Hum. What to say? This morning I saw my therapist then ran a few errands–returned a frame to Hobby Lobby, hit up (as in browsed around, not robbed) a used book store. Anyway, I ended up buying a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and a print–a page torn out of an art book–of a painting called Christ Discovered in the Temple by Simone Martini. In it a teenage Jesus has his arms crossed and is looking rather put upon by his parents, Mary and Joseph, who are clearly upset with his running off to teach the elders without first asking their permission. Which just goes to show that even our lord and savior couldn’t make all of the people happy all of the time.

So we might as well quit trying to.

This afternoon I met my family at Village Inn for Free Pie Wednesday. This is one of our new traditions, and–as per usual–I had WAY too much coffee with my slice of apple pie. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Regardless, by the time I left the restaurant I was wired for light and sound. Even now, at midnight, I’m buzzing. Alas, this is what balance looks like for me lately, not me always walking the middle of the road, but me sometimes overdoing it, like today, and me sometimes under-doing it, like when I fast. More and more, I’m okay with this. As my therapist is fond of saying, we like to think that life is black and white, but the truth is–it’s gray.

This evening I got a haircut (trim), then my friend Justin helped me install a new battery for my laptop. Of course, by helped me install I mean he did it for me. This being said, the battery still needs to be calibrated (charged, fully depleted, then charged again), and I’ll do that part. So, as always, it takes a village.

And a Village Inn.

Go team.

While I was at the bookstore checkout counter today, another gentleman bought a book using store credit. I guess you can bring in books to sell and, instead of taking cash for them, take a trade out. Anyway, the clerk opened a file drawer full of index cards and started searching for this guy’s last name. Then the guy said, “I’m in here all the time, so just look for the card that’s highlighted yellow at the top.” Well, sure enough, the clerk found it lickety-split, pulled it right out. “That’s cool,” he said. “We should do that for other customers.”

“Well it wouldn’t work if you did it for EVERYONE,” the guy said.

Later I was thinking about this whole interaction and how our thoughts and emotions are like the notecards in that file cabinet drawer and how each of us has certain highlighted or go-to responses for any given situation. Like, a lot of guys get ANGRY whenever something goes wrong; a lot of women CRY. Never mind the fact that there are a hundred other ways to respond to whatever’s happening, that’s their highlighted card.

So that’s the card they pull.

Personally, I often pull the “I failed / I did something wrong card” whenever things don’t go perfectly, especially if someone else is upset with me. This has been one of the huge benefits to having a therapist. Whenever I experience stress in a relationship or situation, she helps me by offering a different perspective, by suggesting I pull a different card. “Here’s another way to look at this,” she’ll say. For example, we often discuss the irritating or off-putting behaviors of people (friends, family, self-help gurus, and even ourselves), and she’ll offer a reason WHY someone might behave the way they do. This helps me not only be more empathetic and understanding, but also more kind and–this is the biggie–more at peace.

My point in all this is that MOST of the time, our responses are habitual. Someone cuts us off in traffic, we get stuck behind one of those coupon users at Walmart, or a loved one doesn’t return our text and we go down the rabbit hole of entitlement. Like Jesus’s parents, we think, This isn’t going as I planned! We see the world in black and white–MY WAY and THE WRONG WAY. Over and over again we pull the card that says, “This sucks. Life isn’t working out for me.” In the process, we forget that there are other ways to think and perceive, that there are other cards to pull. Just as easily, at least with some practice, we could pull and eventually highlight the card that says, “Sweetheart, breathe. Be patient. Everything is working out here. Everything is working out for you.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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The Divine in Drag (Blog #973)

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Today is Thanksgiving, and I’m grateful for my family. This afternoon we ate at Village Inn. We’ve done this the last few years, gone out to eat, then met back at home for dessert and coffee. It really is the perfect thing. Everyone can eat what they want–today I had turkey and dressing, and my Dad had a cheeseburger and fries–and you don’t have to do the dishes. Of course, going out to eat means that others (like our sweet waitress today) are NOT with their families. This reminds me to be ever more thankful for being able to be with mine and for those who make our gathering together possible. So this one’s for the staff at Village Inn.

Especially for whoever makes the pumpkin pie. (It was delicious.)

Fun fact: the local manager today told me they’d sold about 1,400 pies in the last three days. Coincidentally, sweat pant sales are up at Walmart.

This Thanksgiving, as is often the case, our family hosted non-relatives–friends, lovers, neighbors. You know how it goes. Not everyone has or can be with their loved ones, but everyone needs a tasty meal, a slice of pie, and good company. I’ve personally been hosted by other families for major holidays before and know how that made me feel (welcomed, accepted, and loved), and this is part of the reason I love that my family has always opened its doors and shared with others. Today at Village Inn I ran into one of my old psychology teachers and later remembered that another one of my psychology teachers told us that he once spent Thanksgiving at 7-11, the convenience store. I think he’d been through a divorce, but at the very least he was lonely. “I knew I could talk to the cashier,” he said.

My mom and I were talking about this sort of thing today, the fact that some people don’t have a place to go on major holidays (or ever) and that even if they do, they’re not always accepted for who they are by those who ideally should love them the most. We both know people who are gay and are either shunned by their families or loved conditionally (like, just don’t talk about THAT, or bring your lover over, or let the neighbors know). Recently one of my mom’s gay friends told her, “I wish I had a mom like you,” I guess because she doesn’t judge him for being different.

For being–himself.

A word that kept coming up today was “embarrassed.” One of my relatives mentioned being embarrassed about how they (sometimes) look, and someone else said they were embarrassed about their voice (because they’ve been made fun of for it). I’m assuming this is the deal with mom’s friend’s mother. She’s embarrassed by (ashamed of) her son’s sexuality. Of course, when you’re embarrassed or ashamed, the natural response is to hide, put on a show, or try to change yourself or others. (Just don’t talk about THAT). Alas, none of these strategies work for very long. We are who we are.

No one can effectively hide.

Getting back to being embarrassed, I know that I’ve often been embarrassed by my family. Especially my father because he’s always trying to get a laugh and doesn’t mind throwing his children under the bus in order to get one. For example, he used to tell hot waiters, “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to take my daughter on a date. She can’t get one on her own.” (Is it any wonder I didn’t come out sooner?) Tonight at my aunt’s house while we were eating pie, my family covered a whole range of–well, very personal–topics. And whereas I’ve been prohibited from blogging about the specifics, suffice it to say that if you’d been a fly on the wall, your face probably would have turned red.

As I was growing up, this sort of chatter (which happened both at home AND in public) was enough to make me want to run away. But as I’ve gotten older, it’s one of the things I appreciate MOST about my family. First of all, talking about you-know-what, at least the way my family does it, is hilarious. We laughed our butts off tonight. Second of all, the fact that no topic is off limits is precisely why no person is off limits. In my family anyone is welcome. We don’t care if you’re gay, straight, poor, rich, religious, not religious, sick, healthy, smart, or dumb. It’s come as you are. Pull up a chair. Have a piece of pie.

Just don’t stay in the bathroom too long. We only have the one.

I remember as a kid being totally ashamed by my family’s open door policy. My dad would invite into our home kids from the projects near his drugstore, and I didn’t handle it well. They were poor, dirty, and uneducated, and I guess I felt better than them. More than that, I was scared. Deep down I think we all know–That could easily be me. The truth is I’m fortunate to have what I have. That’s what I think whenever I hear stories about homosexuals who aren’t welcome–and celebrated–by their families. I really lucked out. ANYONE who’s allowed and encouraged to be wholly themselves–that is, loved unconditionally–by at least one person has totally lucked out.

Likewise, anyone who loves another unconditionally gives an unspeakable gift.

My psychology teacher today said, “Remember Pavlov?” Of course, I did. Pavlov rang a bell whenever he fed his dogs, and eventually they salivated at the sound of the bell even when there wasn’t any food. I’ve been thinking about how this Pavlovian Conditioning applies to the way one person treats another. Like, as a child out of fear or embarrassment you shut down your heart to another human being (just like you), and years later that’s what you keep doing–shutting down your heart anytime you see someone different. You don’t even stop to consider whether or not you COULD love them. Because that’s the deal. It’s not that we’re incapable of unconditionally loving our children, our neighbors, and fellow human beings. Indeed, our hearts have been designed for precisely this. It’s simply a matter of–when you see someone who’s different from you–not shutting down your heart, but connecting to it.

Mother Teresa once said, “Every day I see Jesus in his most distressing disguises.” I love this. Also, I’m deeply disturbed by this because it challenges me to love more than I’m used to loving, to not just care about those who are familiar and like me, but also care about those who are drastically different (in thought, looks, status, and behavior) from me. More and more I see “the different ones” as the divine in drag, asking, “Can you love me like this? Can you love me like that? Can you–will you–open your heart and home MORE?”

[On a personal note, today is also my mom’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom! Thank you for the unconditional love you give me and so many others. It makes all the difference.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

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On Going with the Flow (Blog #972)

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As someone who can usually be found reading, I rarely get out in nature. I mean, I walk around my neighborhood on a regular basis, but I don’t, like, hike. That being said, I enjoy hiking. I just never think to do it. If I look at my calendar and spot a free afternoon, I don’t reach for my boots, I reach for my books. Still, I’ve read that being outside is good for you, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. So get this shit. I recently ran into a friend and former student (when I impulsively stopped at Hobby Lobby to pick up supplies for a fix-it project I’ve been putting off for over a year) who said they loved to hike and wanted to get back into it. “Text me sometime,” I said, “I’d love to tag along.”

Well, they did, and I did. This morning my friend and I met at Lake Fort Smith and ended up hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail for three and a half hours. And whereas the total length of the trail is about a hundred and sixty-five miles, we went five and a half, which both I and my hips were more than fine with. But seriously, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed being outside, (heavily) breathing fresh air, listening to running water, and reconnecting with and getting to better know someone with similar interests.

When we finished hiking and I got back to town, I drove by Village Inn because my dad, my aunt, and a family friend of ours go there every week for Free Pie Wednesday. I earned a slice of pie today, I thought. Maybe I can catch “the crew” and join in the fun. And whereas I didn’t see their car in the parking lot, when I called my aunt she said they were on their way. “Ill grab a table,” I said. Well, it was everything I dreamed of and more. We laughed and laughed, and the pie was delicious.

Last night on a whim my dad suggested going out to our friend’s house, where I’d never been. “What else are you doing?” he said. “He has an Elvis Presley collection that’s to die for.”

“What the hell,” I said.

Y’all, just like today, it was the best time. Stepping into our friend’s house was like stepping into a time warp. His furniture was retro and cool, and–just like Dad promised–Elvis was everywhere–on the calendar, the Christmas tree, and the roll-out carpet. On the wall there was even a picture of Elvis in his underwear. (“That was worth the trip,” I said later.) Anyway, visiting in our friend’s kitchen I thought, Life is so random. One minute you’re sitting at home staring at Facebook, and the next you’re in a whole new world, The World of Velvet Elvis. And whereas some people might judge our friend for having SO MUCH Elvis paraphernalia (how gauche!), I thought it was absolutely delicious. More and more I think, Am I going to judge my experience, or embrace it?

This evening I had a free hour and called my friend Justin to see if he wanted to catch up. “We could walk the dog I’m sitting,” I said. Well, Justin was in the middle of something but said it could wait. “Why don’t you come pick me up?” he suggested. Again, this on-a-whim meeting was fabulous. We laughed, we cried, it was better than Cats.

At one point on our hike today, my friend and I stopped to snack on the bank of a fast-moving creek. “The water is so powerful,” I said, my thought being that it didn’t look like something you’d want to fight against. Rather, it looked like something that could carry you along. Anyway, that’s Justin, he doesn’t insist on a rigid schedule; he lets life move him. When I dropped him back off at his house I said, “One thing I really appreciate about you is your ability to be spontaneous.” He explained, “I figure one way or the other our plans will eventually get wrecked.” Exactly. So better to go with the flow and happily accept random adventures than swim upstream and insist on having it your way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Attention (Blog #706)

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This afternoon I ran errands with my friend Bonnie. We picked out some yarn for my upcoming knitting project, a beanie. The next step will be to find a pattern, then I’ll be off and knitting. Out of my way, Grandma. The last thing Bonnie and I did was eat at Village Inn. I made a mistake and looked at the calories in my favorite meal there–the California Skillet. (It was a lot.) Oh well, I was already committed; I ordered and ate it anyway. I did, however, manage to keep myself from eating the entire stack of pancakes that came as a side. Way to make good choices, Marcus. But then (because it was free slice Wednesday), I ordered and ate an entire piece of pie. Out of my way, willpower.

At some point today I got a headache. It started this morning but was low-level, nothing too threatening. However, as Bonnie and I went here and there, the tension in the back of my head grew and grew. Alas, by the time I got home it was ugly, so I took a nap in hopes that it would go away. And whereas the nap was lovely, the headache remained. I hate it when that happens. So when I woke up, I took some pills. Now I’m sipping hot tea, and I think it’s backing off–a little. Ugh, it’s really difficult to think or pay attention to anything else when your head is pounding. However, I’m learning that this is important to do.

I’ll explain.

Lately I’ve been reading about attention. One of the ideas that fascinates me is that most of us, most the time, are focused on one thing–a headache, a writing project, a television program we’re watching. However, despite the fact that we’re essentially tuned to one channel, our minds and bodies are receiving signals from countless sources. For example, yes, I have a headache now. I’m aware of that fact. But if I slow down for a minute, I’m also aware of the temperature of my skin, the coolness of the air as I breathe in through my nostrils, and a number of different sounds–the music in my earbuds, the clack-clack-clack of the keys on my keyboard, and the talent show competition on the television in my parents’ living room.

One of the points of the material I’m reading is that when we focus on one thing to the exclusion of others, it makes that thing seem bigger than it really is. I do this with health problems (well, most problems) a lot. Consequently, they get blown out of proportion. Not that a headache is fun when it’s going on, but even then, it’s not the only thing happening. In terms of perspective, I could say, “Today sucked. I had a headache.” Or I could widen my viewpoint and realize, “Today was super. I spent time with a friend. I ate a piece of apple pie. I took a nap.” And not that this makes my headache magically disappear, but it does help restore a certain amount of balance to my reality.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Each season has something to offer.

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The School of Life (Blog #180)

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Today started in a sleep-deprived fog. By that I mean it started before noon. Last week I rescheduled a chiropractor appointment for four in the afternoon today, and I was so proud of myself. I thought, I can sleep in, not set an alarm, it will be glorious. Then a few days later the ladies I’m working with on a group dance routine asked if we could meet today on their lunch hour. Well, shit, so much for sleeping in. Really, it was a matter of priorities. As dedicated as I am to my night-owl routine, I’m also dedicated to getting paid, since these hair products aren’t going to buy themselves. So, in a haze, I woke up, took a shower, and went to work. Talk about being an American.

It almost felt patriotic.

Thankfully, the ladies were worth getting out of bed for. They’re working their tails off and have made a lot of progress. As a teacher, it’s rewarding. Plus, they’re funny, and it always helps when people are pleasant. Once I had a married couple get in a fight with each other and walk out. There was even a bit of arm waving along with raised voices–the whole bit. Awkward, but at least I had the rest of the hour to look at Facebook and pick my nose. Anyway, when the ladies were packing up today, they asked what I had going this afternoon. “Oh, I’ll probably read a book,” I said, then started explaining that I’d gotten a new book yesterday at the library even though I was already in the middle of five or six others. I always say this sort of thing like an apology, as if it’s something to be embarrassed out. I think, God, Marcus, get your act together. Can’t you read one book like everybody else? Well, one of the ladies said, “You’re a reader,” like, that’s what readers do.

Oh, yeah, I forgot–I’m a reader.

For lunch I went to Tropical Smoothie Cafe. This is a place I’ve recently fallen in love with, except for the fact that it’s consistently butt cold and the music they play is terrible. It’s always knock-off versions of popular songs, something that might happen if Justin Bieber and an elevator had a baby together. Not pretty. All that being said, I’m somewhat addicted to the Chai Banana Boost (with peanut butter), so I force my body to endure the frigid temperatures and “today’s pop music meets the ukulele” in order that my taste buds may be delighted. Anyway, I remembered when I got there that the restaurant offers a deal on Tuesdays–a smoothie, a pita sandwich, and a side for seven dollars. I can’t tell you how excited this made me. I felt like I’d just won the lottery.

Who, me?

Ironically, this evening my dad was flipping through a coupon magazine he got in the mail, and as he was practically getting wet over the buy-one-get-one meal deal at Village Inn, I thought, This is so embarrassing. Last night I went to the gas station to pick up a pizza for my parents, and they sent me with a discount card they bought from some high school kid who I imagine was raising money for a new band uniform–you know–the kind with the hat that looks like a toilet bowl cleaner turned upside down. Well, a discount card seems more legitimate. I mean, it’s plastic–like a Mastercard. But a coupon you cut out of the newspaper? It just seems so–ordinary.

I realize this is all very judgmental and hypocritical of me.

After lunch I sat in my car and read the book I got yesterday–The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. The sun was coming through the glass, the insulin from lunch was kicking in, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Sometimes when I feel like this, I think of my bed and start singing that song by The Kinks—So tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for youuuuuuuu. Anyway, I read for a while then headed to my chiropractor/massage appointment. My chiropractor said I was practically back to where I was before the car accident, so we’re backing off of weekly appointments.

In one sense this news is freeing because it feels like a graduation. In another, I’ve come to like going to the chiropractor. Today all the staff was up front, and everyone knew my name. It was like Cheers without the alcohol. Although I guess there was a Keurig in the waiting room. Plus, there was Christian music on the speaker system, so maybe was like a bar–Christian bar–one where the smell of coffee and the sounds of praise waft through the air simultaneously, all while you get rubbed on and have your back cracked. Anyway, maybe I’m codependent, but I just like being there. Today I used the restroom, and there was a special dedicated bluetooth speaker on a pedestal in the bathroom. It was turned up really loud, so I got to listen to worship music “on high” while sitting on the toilet. It was–what’s the word?–uplifting.

After the chiropractor’s, I came home and took a nap–hard. I think I slept for a few hours and only woke up because my dad was on the phone with my aunt, practically shouting about the plot of some television show they were both watching. “Everyone thinks she’s innocent, but she’s really a whore and a murderer. Just you wait and see.” Or something like that. I was in the middle of a strange dream at the time, and the combination wasn’t the best way to wake up.

Tonight I finished reading The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure what the book is about. As a writer, this disturbs me. But as a reader, parts of the book are pretty magical. It centers around an old man who goes back to visit his hometown, where, as a seven-year-old, he knew a mysterious girl who said the pond at the end of her road was actually the ocean. Toward the end, the old man, in referring to how he’d grown up, asks one of the central female characters if he’d “passed.” She said, “You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.”

As I’ve thought about it, this line brings me a lot of comfort. You know, you grow up in school and you’re always getting graded on something. A’s and B’s for this, gold and silver stars for that. As an adult, it’s easy to walk away with the idea that everything in life is pass or fail. Maybe you think it’s better to get up early than to stay up late, or that finishing a book is good and not finishing a book is bad. Personally, I have a small hang up with using coupons, as if I’ve “passed” life because I have so much money that I don’t need them. But the truth is that life doesn’t work that way. Some days you’re tired and some days you’re full of energy. One minute you’re blissed by your tastebuds and the next minute you’re pissed that you’re eating lunch inside a meat locker. Come graduation day, you’re excited to move on but also terrified. It’s simply the way life is, and all of it’s ordinary. What’s more, I’m certain, is that no one who matters is passing out grades.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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Dealing with My Bullshit Thoughts (Blog #139)

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The first day I went to therapy, I told my therapist about everything I could think of that might make a difference–the terrible relationship I was in, our house burning down when I was five, Mom being sick, Dad going to prison–every trauma I was aware of. And then I had to pee. Seriously. I remember standing in the bathroom thinking, Okay, there, I said it. I wonder what she’s going to say. Well, she was super professional, didn’t call me fucked up or anything. Rather, she said, “It sounds like you and your boyfriend have zero boundaries and that you have some family of origin issues [Who doesn’t?].” And that was that, end of session one.

Fast forward three years and about a hundred sessions later, and my therapist has never once said, “Tell me about your father,” or, “Let’s talk about that kid that used to beat you up.” She said once that she believes when the subconscious is ready to deal with something (to heal), the topic will come up on its own. So far, she’s been right. At one point or another, we’ve returned to all those initial traumas, even some other ones. We’ve talked about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Today we talked about–money. There, I said it. The topic came up because I mentioned the dream board I’m working on, and it would appear that dreams cost money (if you want them to come true). As the conversation went on, I shared an exercise I did recently where I listed my knee-jerk thoughts about money. Two things–it wasn’t pretty–and my therapist said knee-jerk thoughts (like my mother-in-law is _________) tell us how we really feel about something. To summarize, most of my thoughts about money are negative.

There’s not enough money. Money causes arguments. Money isn’t spiritual.

After I read the list, my therapist said, “That was intense.” I said, “That was intense to say out loud.” Honestly, it felt like throwing up in the backseat of your friend’s new car, like, I feel better, but now what do we do? Well, once again, my therapist didn’t freak out or say that I had an insurmountable problem. Instead, she started by reminding me where my beliefs came from. We talked about my childhood and all the bullshit that went on, the cars that were repossessed when Dad went to prison, the box from the Baptist church full of charity food that sat in a corner and silently proclaimed, “We can’t afford to eat.”

“It’s completely understandable that you’d have issues with scarcity and abundance. You had some bad programming,” she said.

Then she added, “And ninety percent of that list is BULLSHIT,” at which point she took out a pink highlighter and marked the two thoughts about money that I’m apparently allowed to keep because they’re actually true–1) money is freedom (of choice) and 2) money is fun. But the thought that I’d have more money if I were smarter? That one has to go. She said, “Do you know anyone with a lot of money that’s NOT as smart as you are?”

“Well yeah.”

“Okay then.”

The rest of today, I pretty much felt like shit, which I’m assuming is because we poked the bear, stirred up a bunch of junk that’s been sitting around for a while. On top of that, my initial response whenever I realize there’s serious work to do is to get overwhelmed. Oh my god, how am I going to stop believing all these things I’ve been believing for my entire life? Well, after I taught a dance lesson this evening, I finally had an idea.

Village Inn has free pie on Wednesdays. (As my friend Kara says, “It’s hard not to eat your feelings. They taste so good.”)

Really, I spent a good portion of the evening trying to figure out how I could blog about something else tonight. I swear, this vulnerability and honesty shit is for the birds. I mean, I don’t LOVE talking on the internet about my general fears and insecurities, and I certainly don’t LOVE talking on the internet about my specific fears and insecurities (money, money, my education, my body, my talent, and money–and also money). Part of me would just prefer not to do it. There may be some pride involved. But when I checked out at Village Inn tonight, the lady at the register started talking to me about an employee she’d just got off the phone with. She said, “She hasn’t worked in a month. She’s been on vacation in Spain.”

I thought, Now why do I give a shit?

But I said, “Oh that’s nice.”

Then the manager jumped in and said, “I’d love to go to Spain,” so I said, “Do it!” But then she said, “I don’t have enough money, I can’t afford it,” which is honestly my first thought lately whenever someone suggests seeing a play, going to dinner, or riding the train at Creekmore Park for a quarter. Then I figured if the Village Inn lady and I have this issue around scarcity, that’s at least two of us, and maybe there are others. So–in an effort to be real–I’m talking about it.

Sometimes when I think about the road that lies ahead and turning my scarcity truck into an abundance mobile, it feels impossible. But this evening I’ve reminded myself that I’ve tackled a lot of big issues over the last several years. I’ve come a long way with a lot of excellent help. So I have to trust that this too is an issue that’s come up at the right time, that it’s only rocking my emotional boat now because it’s time for it to heal.

Let’s do this shit.

As always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just as there’s day and night literally, there’s also day and night emotionally. Like the sun, one minute we’re up, the next minute we’re down. Our perspectives change constantly. There’s nothing wrong with this. The constellations get turned around once a day, so why can’t you and I? Under heaven, there’s room enough for everything–the sun, the moon and stars, and all our emotions. Yes, the universe–our home–is large enough to hold every bit of us.

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