The universe is so damned accommodating. It gives us what we ask for.
When I finally did more than bang my gums about my life’s purpose and actually committed myself to living it, I awoke duct-taped to a shooting star.
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I and my zillion closest friends are just like Tiger Woods, and boy are we thankful.
We’re addicts of one persuasion or another. More to the point, each of us is on a path of recovery: waking to the beauty of being an ordinary schmoe––doing our best not to bullshit ourselves.
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The universe is full of beautiful irony. Take love, for instance.
Big Love is among the rarest of human emotions because it is so pure and life-affirming. Small Love is among the most common of human emotions because it is so messy and destructive. Yet, it is only through Small Love, what you might call our humanness, that we come to treasure and embrace Big Love, our divinity, our true self.
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