We all have things to grumble about, and we are all legitimately and honestly free to experience them, but the perspective of weeds is this---most things are not as bad as they may appear.

It's thrilling. And the word on the tip of my tongue so perfect, so encapsulating of these feelings stirred in the blood by so little a thing as earlier sunrises and daffodil shoots.

This is what I think we all long for, even more than for Christmas morning - a month of Christmas.

Look around you. Directly around you. At anyone who comes in and out of your life today. From those near and dear to your heart, to those with whom you share work space with and nothing more, to the stranger at the checkout. Love them.

Perfecting everything you could in this life is impossible, but being perfectly you is not.

So in our selves, in our unutterably alone souls, we are again connected. We are all one in source, in design.

The words I use to keep myself down reside inside so deeply, placed there so innocently by a father who was himself just a hurt child, that they will probably never go away. I may never, to my core, feel quite good enough, ever.

You can do anything in the world, just don’t let the smaller things hold you back.