Everybody has a past. Everybody has a story. We are all sinners, forged out of others’ heat, sinning and sinned against. There are very few saints in this world. And very few monsters. Most of us are a mix of both.

teetotaler

Josiah Bartlett, a signatory of

generosity, especially when you consider that they have no idea what they’ll get back.

The chance to grow like that is something you earn; it is also a tremendous gift, given to you by others with astonishing

Decameron.

I will always be trying to stop wondering what exactly I am good for, to instead make peace with the fact that I deserve to be alive and, from that more calm and steady place, will be better able to wrestle with what I can do for myself and others without needing the crutch of certainty.

Because I longed for clarity like Dave Eubanks’s so badly, it has been hard sometimes to realize that all the learning and maturing I’ve done since my twenties has widened and crowded the whole tapestry, adding doubt and confusion. Which is also wisdom, so I could never wish to know less, to give that up just to try and feel more comfortable with

Which is to say, some days you are happy to be alive, and you know you’ll never forget the feeling or lose the knack. And other days you do forget; you do lose it. Nothing happens in order, and you have to do it over and over again.