You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
— Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
I’m starting with poetry to give you the impression that I am deep and intellectual. You caught me!
One night, my toddler son took a header off the couch. I was standing in the kitchen licking the wooden spoon after stirring his Annie’s Mac & Trees (culinary brag). He was standing on the couch, which is not okay, because couches are for our butts.
Read more at Huffington Post