Dance, Magic, Dance!

I've been having a hard time coming up with posts lately. I just looked at the last one and it's been over a month! Yikes! Not the way I prefer to handle things.

In pondering why this might be the case, I discovered that I kinda dropped out of my life.

Yes, I've been revamping the business and the website, and yes, it's been unexpectedly on-hold for about a month. Branding complications. Ugh!

And it's also true that I've been studying and taking classes like mad; the last two months have felt like constant mid-terms, and the feeling is going to probably last for a while. I'm devouring new knowledge that I hope to bring to the table soon. Fun, but consuming.

And yes, I've been working hard on purging my heart's basement. Clearing brush. Digging for diamonds in what feels like miles of rubble, and that has been no mean task, I assure you.

And then my husband got sick for, like, a month and with him down-for-the-count with no real energy to spare for me. Plus, it was playoffs; I had the final excuse to go on absolute check-out. No connection anywhere.

I dropped out of my life.

I told myself I had too much to do to focus on writing - to focus on much of anything besides focusing. I focused so hard I pretty much didn't know what day it was.

And here's what I'm noticing: I give myself these deadlines. I get hooked into some astrological shift I've read about and decide that EVERYTHING has to be done by June 4th or whatever because that's when I lose all this Jupiter action, etc, etc.

Um, what?

What clued me in finally, was that I was doing all this hard work and learning and experimenting and Writing Copy and Landing Pages and all the businessy-business stuff. And doing the therapy stuff and going in brand new, uncharted circles around my health. And learning new skills and trying to hone them at the same time as I was trying to market them.

And if all this is so cool, then where exactly do I show up in all of it?

I felt like the scene in Labyrinth where the trash lady is heaping all of Sarah's toys on her, reminding her of all the trappings of her fantasy world, but she is suddenly shaken out of her trance by a real urgency about the work she's been called to do - to save her baby brother from the clutches of the Goblin King.

I had forgotten all about David Bowie in the Tina Turner wig and drag-queen makeup up in the castle on the hill and had to get buried in stuffed unicorns and snow globes before I woke up and smelled the Bog of Eternal Stench...

I apologize sincerely to those of you who haven't seen the film.

Suffice it to say, I was distracted by my own brain. It happens sometimes.

Does this happen to you? When you get so wrapped up in being wrapped up that you get caught talking to yourself in fake conversations in the kitchen by a four-year-old looking for milk, when you thought the kids were still watching TV?

You forget to watch the last minute of playoffs because you're searching for just the right font for the new logo?

Spend so much time wondering what your triggers are about eating foods you're allergic to all the time that you forget to clean the catbox for, like, four days?

You get the picture, anyway. And I hope I'm not totally alone. If I am, let this be a cautionary tale...

This weekend was gorgeous. The husband was feeling much better. I snapped out of it. He mowed the lawn and then I went out with my hula-hoop while he weeded (didn't even feel guilty about that) and got scrappy. Did some stuff. Listened to my husband play some music with some friends at an outdoor party. Opened the windows!

Good grief. I've got to get over myself and start living again! It's way better than what goes on in my freaking head!

So anyway, that's where I've been. I've been here, in my mind all along.

To sign up for a Blogger account so you can leave a comment, click here.

To learn more about Darcy Molloy, visit www.namahahealingarts.com.

Rant on Getting Well

While at a recent gathering for a spiritual community, I was offered an exquisite specimen of a homemade cinnamon roll, big as my head, baked by a church elder. She handed me a plate, expectantly. I shrank.

"Oh, thank you! I can't have them," I apologized.

She glared at me. Full-on Stink Eye. "Oh. You're one of those."

"I - I'm sorry," I stammered. "I'm allergic. And...I can't eat sugar. I'm really sorry." Because it was my fault somehow that I couldn't eat her manna on a paper plate? Who was losing out here?

I've got dietary issues. Seriously.

This is not meant to be a "poor-me" story, though, so just read through for a little bit and you'll see what I'm getting at.

I'll explain to you what I've explained to countless others.

Because of some parasitic "guests" in my system I can't eat starches (except for four types of grain, soaked and sprouted), sugars of ANY kind including fruits, no rice no bread, none of that. Not even beans. And because these guests (and by this I mean single-celled organisms that have no good business in the human body) have caused leaks in my intestinal wall I can't eat gluten, soy, dairy, nuts, seeds, chocolate and probably a lot of other things.

The starches and sugars cause discomfort due to the propagation of said "guests", and all the other stuff just plain hurts. Refined oils, including canola and palm, just exacerbate whatever's going on.

This means I can't eat out, and I can't travel. Not easily. Not without a ridiculous amount of complication and drama. Not to mention depression.

Every time we go out and I sit across from someone with my glass of water watching others down nachos and fries and beet salad with gorgonzola and candied pecans, I'm almost always stuck rehashing my woes, listing everything I can't eat and then comforting my table mates while they process their own feelings of horror and guilt at eating in front of me. "It's okay," I assure them, "I'm used to it by now..."

And nothing I've done so far has come close to getting rid of them.

Now, I've been told by other professionals in my line of work whose health issues have begun to assert themselves as part of their own lives, that this is just what we all signed up for. Or that ill heath and physical pain is just the natural result of spiritual evolution. That somehow these 3D bodies weren't meant to hold all this light. "Oh, you're just a sensitive soul." I get that a lot.

Honey, there's a lot of times I'd rather be an insensitive boor and have a piece of pizza.

And what happened to the teaching of all the energy-healers in workshops and marketing materials all over the globe that every symptom that occurs in the physical body is a manifestation of some leftover crap in the energy field? Stuff we're not necessarily even aware of or immediately responsible for? So what happens to that argument when we start talking about "Oh woe is me! My vibration is just too high for this world!"

See this argument holds no water for me. How does it work, exactly? Or is it really some leftover programming from a culture that teaches us of a punitive God? Dear sister, this just isn't true!

Of course, I'm one to talk; it's how I react to the situation. Every time I fall off the wagon of meat, vegetables, and sprouted amaranth for barely a mouthful and start to have a symptom, the interior beatings begin. What did you expect, idiot? Really, I catch these things going on in my head. You're totally out of control. You just got what you deserve...

But what does dessert have to do with it? We're here, aren't we? We're here, and we're here to serve and to reflect the qualities of the divine to one another, so God can look at herself in seven billion mirrors and wink and say "Hey! Check me out!"

So why on earth would we be built to be in pain and ill health, just for trying to do what we came here to do? Doesn't make sense to me.

Sure, sometimes there are wonderful lessons to be learned from this kind of struggle. But here we also get free will. We get to choose how we learn our lessons. And we get to change our minds.

Me, I finally said whoa. This isn't my fault, no matter what pat little story I like to tell myself about how terrible I am. I want to go to hoop camp for a week, and I want to eat the vegan food they serve for that whole week and not be miserable and not hate myself and call myself foul names for not feeling good while I'm there. Is that too much to ask? Let me know, because I'm asking.

I finally threw down cash money to get some real, deep help from a practitioner who believes, like I do, that this illness is actually something that can be directly addressed and integrated into my being for my benefit. I asked for help to get this thing by the roots, look it in the eye, learn what's there to learn, and then walk away, renewed, healthy and vibrant. Whole.

Today we did some work that tells me that this is absolutely possible. I can see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I've got a ways to go, but I see that there is a very real end to it. I've seen a place where my physical being can fully reflect my divine essence clearly and beautifully in comfort and joy.

And what the other suffering healers express is true, in that the light can make things pinch a bit at first.

What I think happens is that the brighter the light, the easier it is to see all the debris and error in perception and action that linger in the field. Which can hurt, and cause things like disease and chronic pain to show up, so that we can stop resisting it, digest it, and harmonize it with our own divine light. This isn't a comfy thing sometimes, and sometimes it takes a physical commitment, like, say, asking for help, or even paying for that help just to state to ourselves that we mean business.

It's like combing out tangles in your hair. A whole lotta light is like when you yank on it from the top it's just going to turn into a knotted mess, and it's gonna hurt. That's when the symptoms get worse.

But when we get some help to gently hold space for our process, and tease the tangle out from the bottom, bit by bit, eventually we find the central knot, and the rest of the snarl can fall away. All that emotional detritus and thought goo and the suffering we SO love to coddle and nurture just gets washed away with grace and compassion.

So just know you don't have to settle for illness, chronic pain, disease or any of it. There's help to be had.

And you are a perfect child of God who deserves that help.

I will keep you posted on my progress. And I would LOVE to hear your feedback!

To sign up for a Blogger account so you can leave a comment, click here.

To learn more about Darcy Molloy, visit www.namahahealingarts.com.

Boots Off to My Sisters

I know this isn't usually a fashion column, but I love wearing my black boots.

When I'm in a sassy, no-nonsense, go-get-'em mood, I wear my black boots.

When I don't feel quite up to a challenge, but I have to show up anyway, I wear my black, knee-high boots.

When I want to make a statement, but don't think I have anything of value to say, I pick out a skirt and some leggings and the boots do the rest.

My knees can't take heels anymore, so they're flat-soled, with a buckle at the top. They zip up the middle.

They're my super-hero costume! I can walk a mile in them without a blister, they're not too tight for my fat calves, and they go with just about everything, although they say the most with a skirt. They're warmer than socks and keep the wind out. I can wear them casually and to dress up something frumpy. They're my all-out wardrobe (and attitude) lifesaver.

Today I walked into a classroom full of women, all of us prepared to talk about our scariest selves. To write about our darkest, shadowed shames and to let them be dissected, trusting strangers. We came to celebrate together.

About half of the room was wearing knee-high black boots.

I surreptitiously sized up my booted sisters to decide whether we did indeed belong to the same tribe. All writers. All women. I noticed that the teacher had on her black boots too. I knew her to be a clear, confident and gutsy writer who was well respected for going-all-the-way with her literary career. I secretly thanked my boots for gaining me admission to this club of accomplished and self assured women, and hoped I wasn't just a lot of black vinyl when the time came to share my stuff.

As we went around the room, unloading our fears, our whos and hows and whys, our tales of grief and sorrow and broken and reclaimed dreams I knew that I was not the only one who expects the Super Hero to show up even when I feel less than super. And my membership card was not revoked.

And yes, I do belong to the fancy footwear club. As do all the other women I know, boots or sneakers or crocs, who show up when they'd rather hide out. Who have the courage to take a good look at themselves just for the opportunity to grow, and learn, and maybe share something that can help another sister. Who acknowledge the unspeakable alongside the angelic in themselves and (even if for just a second) see that marriage as a work of art. Who are willing to learn to say "yes" and "no" for themselves, knowing that that is what makes the world a better place.

On further reflection, I think I wear the boots to set the bar. I know I'm bootworthy, and that's my Truth. When I wear them, costume or not, I know that somewhere in there there's the sassy, fearless, woman unafraid to express her opinions and stand firm in her convictions, even if I feel more like sweats and shapeless sweatshirts of uncertainty and self-doubt.

Today I wear my boots for you.

Peace,
Darcy
Namaha Healing Arts

The Bigger Picture

It's not the whole image. I can see the dog balancing the ball on his nose and the teenagers fighting over the magazine in the background, and the car running the stop sign. In high color I observe the flower vendor on the corner and the crab apples that have spilled from his basket and the toddler scurrying after one into the cobbled street.

I can savor each intricate detail. The broken thread in the pin-stripe on the elderly gentleman's lapel. He appears forlorn; I can see the tear collecting at the corner of his eye. I can even see the torn binding of the book he is reading, which obscures its title. As I get closer, I can make out the name on the cat's collar - "Hermione." I can almost pick out the texture of her tongue as she grooms her downy breast. I notice the broken spoke in the adult-sized tricycle as it narrowly misses the toddler in the street. I can practically smell the popcorn popping in the wagon on the paved path along the top of the bridge.

Every detail, every brush stroke.

And yet, in the back of it all lurks a menacing alleyway, incongruous to my impression of the scene. It's purple-green walls surely conceal evils secreted from this innocent urban event. Despite all the gaiety of the day lit square, my eyes are repeatedly drawn to its depths.

Upon closer inspection, I notice this grotesque emptiness blots out a great deal of the canvas, a netherworld where unimagined and unsavory elements pace, menacing and patient.

With respect to the antics of the sunlit crowd, I conjure that what is ominous in the darkness is treacherous, to be avoided at all costs, the brightly-lit scenario a safe haven from its questioning shadow.

What's down the dark alley?

As I now juxtapose the two visual impressions, the known chaos against the unformed, darkling way, I notice just how bright and lively are the images of light. As I penetrate even more closely the images become almost garish in their literality - their precision. A crumb stuck to a cheek. A skinned knee. A drop of saliva hanging from the lip of the expectant and obese hound. It all becomes a little too much. The unknown becomes almost a welcome flavor, bland, subtle, the delicacy of a lavendered salt, more scent than taste.

As I teeter on this precipice of known vs unknown I feel a battle for an unclaimed part of myself. At the pivot is the assumption of contrast, dissonance, and all moments have coalesced into this one. The conflux of utterly known, utterly described and experienced, and the pregnancy of what will be, what may be, what is not yet. The realized vs the potent.

To then unfocus my eyes, and gasping, take a further step backward, prepared to drink all in as one whole, and then, having breathed deeply, with purpose, to notice...

...My God! Not one image but a vast argument in triptych ever expanding, ever describing and ever questioning. The darkness and detail now but texture on a far greater landscape, stretching into infinity, or so I must conceive from the point in space and time where I reside.

And so how may I presume to guess what lurks in shadows, or the meanings of crumbs and crab apples? I reel and teeter and brace to topple. I remain barely balanced, then am poised, with nothing available to me but surrender to the Mystery. And I do not fall.

But I see, I breathe, and I wonder.

And finally I am borne up, soaring, to a position unprecarious, cradled.

Peace,
Darcy Molloy
Namaha Healing Arts

A Few Notes on a Quotation

This was just shared with me by an associate the other day:

"Until one is committed there is always hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness,
concerning all acts of initiative and creation.
There is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:
The moment one definitely commits oneself,
then providence moves in too.
All sorts of things occur to help that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising to one’s favor all manner of unforeseen accidents and meetings
and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would come his way.
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it."
-Goethe

Don't you just hate it when someone says something WAY better than you could ever have said it?

To sum up: It's really scary to ACT on a whim, even though you know you've got the support of All of Heaven because once you step down that path, it's all going to fall into place in ways you couldn't possibly imagine, and THEN where will you be? So then we just don't do ANYTHING, which is kind of a mess.
Okay, well it's not exactly subtext, but you can extrapolate. Humor me, okay?

It's really easy for me to listen to guidance, to listen for definitive Guidance. But often I get caught right up with worrying about hearing it right or interpreting the signs or doing what I'm "supposed" to be doing. The truth is, we decide what we want to do, and we must ACT on a decision, for better or for worse, in order for the Universe to act upon our behalf, not the other way around. I mean, half the time Guidance is just the Higher Self brainstorming anyway. It isn't just a manual for personal satisfaction, right? I've spent plenty of time acting (or not acting) on the misconception that I just wasn't receiving the proper instructions. Actually, nothing was happening because I wasn't actually doing anything...

Recently I've realized this about my practice. I'm sitting in the orchard waiting for my basket to fill up, when there are beautiful, ripe apples, pendulous, on every tree within my view. The ladder is unfolded to one side, inviting. And yet, I've been sitting very still, expectant, waiting for them all to leap from the branches. And all this time I've wondered why my basket is empty.

This new year I've rededicated myself to building my practice, to reaching out, to act on my dreams and visions instead of just waiting for my clients to decide what it is I want to be when I grow up. And the result has been astounding. Even my darkest moment, when I had just about thrown in the towel altogether (which was, I think, Monday), has now become a banquet table of options with a fountain of creativity at it's center; it's shaped like a swan!

My lesson this week reflects directly on Herr Goethe's verse: you can dream and scheme all you want, but when Harvest Time is here, all of Nature supports the commitment to make that apple pie, whatever it takes, and that includes setting one foot on the ladder and beginning to climb.


Peace,
Darcy Molloy,
Namaha Healing Arts

What, Me Worry?

True confessions, I have a tendency toward anxiety attacks. Recently I've discovered some physical relationships with those, and am better able to control them (energy work +magnesium = okay! energy work - magnesium = CRAZY), but I've gotten into these horrible loops where my total lack of control over anything in my future would seem to present an actual, physical threat, and I would totally cease to function. I would rationalize with myself, reminding myself that nothing bad was happening in that moment, which is all I needed to concern myself with. Didn't help. Last time it was earthquakes. I was literally convinced we were all going to die at any minute and I felt absolutely lost and helpless and completely nuts. And worry is now a rabid rhinoceros and reason is not an option.

Let me backtrack a minute. As a Reiki Master I teach Dr. Mikao Usui's 5 Reiki Principles. Each of these precepts is designed to help guide the practitioner in daily life. The version I was taught is as follows:

Just for today, I will not worry.
Just for today, I will not anger.
I will honor my parents, teachers, and elders.
I will earn my living honestly.
I will show gratitude for every living thing.
(and then my brain adds, "and live by the Girl Scout law," but that's just me.)

The anger thing is sometimes an iffy one for students, but the one that seems to cause the most consternation is "Just for today, I will not worry."

Now I'm never going to be comfortable with anything that has Thou Shalt in front of it, and I highly doubt Usui took that tone with his students, either. Still, so many of my students come back to me, hangdog, admitting that they just can't do it. Or they're frustrated because if feels crazy to even try. Because, geez! There's so much that can go wrong and so much to care about and fix and fret over.

Now, I don't actually think it's crazy to try not to worry, but at the same time worry naturally tends to beget itself. If I'm worried about not worrying because I shouldn't worry, then I'm stuck in a worrying loop and then I'm worried about the loop and so on. And what good is that? My panic attacks have taken on many shapes and faces over the years, and the mind just goes wherever the fixation is and just. won't. stop. It was once pointed out to me that people call it being Out of One's Mind, when in fact you're trapped in there and the walls are moving in and R2D2 is nowhere to be found...

And here's where the loop becomes a noose. I'm now not only paralyzed with fear, I'm also berating myself for stooping to worry when I should know better, and I try to vanquish the panic through reason. For a long time I just thought if I could get at the truth about why I was freaking out I could deal with that part of it, and it would stop. I could track my fear of earthquakes to my overweening sense of responsibility, or my belief that everything that happens in the universe is somehow up to me. Then I track that back to this instance in my childhood, or even this or that past-life experience and find the root, trying desperately to conquer that false belief in order to eliminate the core issue permanently. I could track the fix like a pro.

Didn't help me in the least. The mind just said, "Uh huh. That's nice. WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIEEEE!!!" See, this is an irrational operation, so reason isn't really a useful tool. You can use a lipstick to water the lawn for awhile, but pretty soon you're just going to get Viva Glam all over everything and the azaleas are only getting crispier.

Experience has taught me that truly the only thing I can do at that point is to just look the monster in the eye and offer my hand for a shake. Because it's apparently not going away, and you obviously aren't functioning while trying to fight it off. Might as well make nice. I'll just give in, I'll usually go completely numb, and tell myself, "yes, we're probably all going to die at any minute and you won't know where your loved ones are when the Big One hits and you don't have enough cat carriers and it's supposed to rain for the next 6 months nonstop and you probably don't have enough water stored. Yup. All true, friend. Okay. So what?"

And the mind just spins, but I can step out of it and say, "Wow. I'm totally out of control. This is extremely uncomfortable. I'm going to take another one of these deep breaths - gasps really - and maybe have a good cry and cancel my massage because it won't do any good." I just live with it as best I can. I've quit trying to track the emotional debris that's causing the freakout, quit judging my inability to let go of the insanity and just sit back and get comfortable being uncomfortable. Okay, Freakout. Freak right out. I'll be here when you're done, humming "Everything's Alright" from Jesus Christ Superstar.

My point is, no matter how useless worry is, it's something we're probably going to go back to now and again. I don't think worry in itself is a practical or undertaking, but viewed as part of a larger whole, with conscious intent, worry can be a powerful ally in our own evolution. I firmly believe that sometimes, when one can't let it go, it's better to just acknowledge it, give it a little hug, and go back to washing the dishes, because ultimately we know it isn't serving us, but it's a part of the experience right here, right now. So long as that ego-mind isn't running the show, worry can be a good teacher. It can show us where we're at right now, and ultimately teach us compassion for ourselves as human expressions of the Ultimate Divine. Only when we can conceive of compassion for our own, perfect imperfection can we truly feel that compassion for our brothers and sisters.

See the part of Just for Today, I Will Not Worry that draws my focus is the "just for today" part. Because if I'm truly focused in the present then I'm not worrying anyway. Worry is always about What's Gonna Happen, which we can't ultimately control or even know, even if you are a psychic or an astrologer. You still don't truly know. Ever.

And to my mind, that's what Usui's talking about in principle #1. Even if you are worried, just be here. Just show up. Just for today.

Roads Taken and Not

Some of you who read this (I actually do think there are more than 5 people, despite what Blogger indicates) might have noticed the lack of circles, classes and events Namaha's been hosting lately. I've had a sparsely attended Oneness Blessing circle at my office (a line, really. Me, point A, and one other, point B) and not much else. Now, if you've just read the mid-December newsletter or checked out the Facebook page you'll notice I'm suddenly cannonballing right back into the middle of the pool at a new venue with new offerings and new prospects, and all sorts of balls to juggle.

Why the ebb and flow, you ask? Why this grand lull in the action?

Too many ideas. Too many good, great, exciting, heart-centered, life-affirming CHOICES.

Does this happen to you?

For me there's a balance of expectation and realization. I'll take out the Roadmap of My Life and point to where I expect to be by X date. It's a fantastic place. A place I know I can get to. A place that is utterly affirming of all my gifts and skills and desires. A place that will prove I've been on the right track the whole time. Yep. That's where I'm a-goin'.

More often than not, the point on the map is so far from where I am, the roads to it seem almost limitless. I can take the 26W to the 101, or I can take 30 and cross the bridge to 14 and take a more scenic route. Or, of course, I could just take the direct-not-so-pretty route and take I-5 most of the way then drop down by the river...I could start another Reiki Circle, but which night of the month, and how many days each month? Should I work it so this client can come or that one? Should I teach workshops in places I've already worked, or should I branch out and try something new? Do I want to work out of my home or keep my office? Should I scrap the whole practice and just work on the book?

Which path is the right one?

Often it feels like I have to choose exactly the right thing, or nothing will work out. If I concentrate on this then I feel like a fraud here. If I schedule that and I'm not a complete expert on the subject then will I have anything to say?

I try to think about what route I do like to take to the coast. I almost always choose the most scenic, even if it takes a bit longer. And I don't mind if I pull off the road at a viewpoint and get distracted by a herd of Elk. Or if I get lost in the small town looking for a restroom at the halfway point. I don't even mind that I've forgotten the keys to the condo and we have to harrass all the neighbors trying to get in.

So why is it any different choosing my course in life? If I've set my sites on a destination, and I know pretty surely that I'm going to get there, then the route ought to be the most fun one, right?

Here's the thing. In the Indian energy anatomy there are two currents of energy running through the body (well, according to this map there are more like 72,000, but we'll just focus on these two.), one that goes up and out, merging with everything. The current of "enlightening" that connects us to All There Is. This is the Liberating Current, and it's what transcendental meditators seek to achieve. This freedom from all things physical. Which is one way. The other comes down from the heavens into us. It is what creates the universe. It is what turns thought to things. It is the direction of creation, called the Manifesting Current. While the Liberating Current brings us freedom, the Manifesting Current brings us - you guessed it - limitation. We have to exclude in order to create. We have the imagination to create the thought, and when we feed energy to that thought we create. We choose one thing at a time to bring into being.

Sometimes I feel too good rolling around in the vast field of unlimited possibility. I get very comfortable there. I get a little cocksure and snooty with the creativity that oozes from my inspired mind and I don't want to leave it's vision of sugar plums AND chocolate cake AND ice cream AND pumkin scones...okay so I'm hungry, but you see my point.

I've had to come to terms with this process for what it is. You have to pick one thing at a time. You have to cause something for it to have an effect. This doesn't mean that there isn't room for all of it to come about, but you can't put three feet forward at once. And by "you" I mean "I."

I'd say "just listen to your heart," but my heart gets overly enthusiastic too. "Yes! Absolutely! Oh wait! No! You should do that instead. Ooooh, that would be cool! Hey, aren't you doing the first thing? Can we go over there?" My heart is like a Labrador puppy at the beach sometimes. It's ALL good.

And I have to promise myself that it IS all good.

Because next time I'm revisiting this part of the map I might be on a motorcycle or have a flying car, and the trip will be different, but I can still go back and retrace my steps. I can pick a different route if I want to go to the same place. The road doesn't necessarily vanish just because you don't take it.

Trust, faith, not taking myself too seriously.

Okay, I think I got it.

Check out the site for all the new stuff.