My T —
I got some bad news this week.
It fits this letter.
No worries, it will work out.
It always does.
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A priest shared this metaphor once:
On a trip with her wife, she kept taking wrong turns.
After each wrong turn, their GPS said —Recalculating…
The destination didn’t change but the route did.
Like life.
Don’t mind the twists and turns. They make it more interesting.
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I want to tell you about the glow.
In my first letter I talked about feeling “bathed in sunlight.”
In another about being a “great man” one day.
(Still embarrassed about that.)
It’s somewhere in between.
I will try to describe it.
Let me tell you when I felt it.
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Once in high school.
I had been selected as a California Senate intern.
(I had wanted to be a diplomat back then…for like five minutes.)
The interns went to Sacramento and lived in college dorms.
I lived with eight others across a few rooms.
It was the farthest and longest I had ever been away from home.
Felt like I started college already.
Crazy shit happened:
One guy lost his virginity — to a uni girl.
Another guy snuck out to go clubbing — then got sent home.
I addressed the entire Senate — you could have heard a pin drop.
(Apparently I have a commanding voice.)
I felt safe but challenged and had no idea about the next day.
Or the next. Or the next.
I felt the glow.
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Again in college.
I remember laying on the grass on a spring day.
The sunlight was a haze, a misty golden light, a bright warm fog.
They had a crab boil — the smell of shellfish, sausage, corn, and butter…
There were big, long tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths.
I had a girlfriend but no idea where she was.
It didn’t matter.
(Her grandfather, a 5th-gen Buddhist priest, always said
—What is life without possibility?
Except he had a thing for teenage girls.)
I felt entirely myself.
I remember thinking, I had no idea where life would take me.
None at all.
I felt the glow.
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Years later an ex said to me:
—If you can see your entire path, it’s not your path.
(—The unanswered question carries you to The End.)
It is not knowing.
In a good way.
The glow feels…good.
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My old boss said many stupid things, like
—Get comfortable being uncomfortable.
Yet I’ve given gifts to people who, for unknown reasons, felt overwhelmed or embarrassed.
(Eg, that Hermes Rocket typewriter.)
It’s too much, I don’t deserve this, they say.
Life gives us all the possibility, all the freedom.
Accept it.
This is the glow.
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Buddhism describes the inner treasure.
It’s inside of us — is us — and no one can take it away.
The trouble is, we don’t notice it.
If we do notice it, we doubt it.
Even if we believe in it, we don’t live into it.
(People are impossible.)
You get it.
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Where does my confidence come from?
Trust.
(Even if you don’t believe. Especially if you don’t.)
Where does trust come from?
Love.
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As I said:
Science says bumblebees can’t fly, but they don’t know that.
So they fly.
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—We can’t choose our genes but we can choose our jeans.
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On my patio I asked the universe a big question.
In seconds a hummingbird flew straight at me.
We faced off, NOSE TO NOSE.
I got my answer.
(If you know what they stand for…)
It’s happened before.
You cannot make this up.
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I feel the glow.
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Happy Easter, my dear one.
— Your D
P.S. I started a list of things that foster wellbeing. Some obvious, some not. It’s handy!
P.P.S. Remind me to tell you why I think I’m living my life backwards. It’s a good thing.