The Sky Is Meaningful
When I was five, I had my first conversation with my father about the existence of God — or at least the first conversation I can remember.
That I would have such a conversation with Dad was not, in itself, remarkable. He was preoccupied with religion, though very much from his own particular angle. He would talk about God with whomever happened to be available.
Writing has always seemed to me a kind of alchemy.
The old alchemists believed that hidden within common and seemingly worthless substances lay the possibility of transformation. Their work began with the prima materia — dark, unformed matter — and through a long process of purification and refinement sought to reveal gold concealed within it.
Gratitude is not naïveté. It is a way of seeing.
Recently, a professional friend told me she was more of a “glass-half-empty” person than a “glass-half-full” one. She admitted she needed optimistic people around her because otherwise life could begin to feel catastrophic. I suspect many people feel the same way. We are naturally drawn toward those who carry some sense of possibility within them.