I am now a conspiracy theorist. The Universe, I swear to pete, is conspiring on my behalf that every teeny tiny little event and every big f***ing deal works together with all the other stuff that I don't even notice, to land me square in the lap of luxury. Yeah, I said it--luxury. Silk pajamas and caviar sandwiches? Better. See, I am almost totally unemployed right now, in a paycheck way, I mean. And as such, i tend to feel a bit on the worthless side. I'm dependent. The word "dependent" makes me think about Depends undergarments. Although i know that loss of bladder control is neither here nor there, what the hell does it matter...I have it hardwired somewhere in my brain that "dependent" is both dangerous and also somehow all I can ever hope for. Not a comfortable feeling to feel, well...f***ed. What was I saying about luxury? That Life itself conspires on my behalf to help me notice how exactly how I can slip into the space of welcome and nurture.
You so eloquent and insightful, I be quoting you and imitating you in my head. :)
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