Why do books matter? Why do fiction writers matter? Why is fiction reading still relevant? The world changes, evolves, and by necessity leaves behind what no longer fits. The thing is, stories always fit. They take us by the hand and pull us into worlds we didn’t know existed—not the world of the writer, but the world that was within us.
My take on happy/joy is thus: happiness is situation based: event + perspective = reaction; joy is internally based: perspective = perspective. I could have changed my perspective toward how I managed my business, but sometimes the little voice inside us (our intuition) says it’s time to move on. Don’t be afraid to listen to it. Or if you are afraid, listen and then dare greatly, anyway.
This wreath is truly a gift of the heart and of this season. It honors the circle of life, a miracle with no beginning or end, and brings tidings of comfort and joy to both the giver and recipient. In the same way that the Winter Solstice turns back the dark by lengthening the days, this gift has swaddled us in warmth and light—new friends who feel as if we’ve known each other forever, pulled by our grandmothers into a wordless embrace that is nothing less than divine.
It’s not easy to watch someone you love suffer every day. Your family are all doing the best they can with what they know, as are you. Whether you walk freely again or not, you will move mountains in your life and you will, one day, teach others that anything is possible.
But I’m finished pretending, and ready to add my voice to the chorus that’s rising as women stand up and say, “Me too.” I’m finished going limp and easy under bodies I didn’t summon, didn’t ask for, didn’t consent to touch. I’m not your rag doll, anymore. My body hasn’t forgotten, but my voice is steadier now. Ready to warble with the rest of them, and find strength in solidarity.
It’s no folly. It’s the cosmic joke. There is a secret code of energy and ego that separates us from our divinity, purpose and human-ess. It’s a problem only awareness, honesty and surrender can solve. The result is fear. The result is not being afraid to admit you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.
Caroline called her The Living Proof Girl, which became shorthand for the enviable, carefree spirit who approached college—and life in general—with a seemingly effortless upbeat attitude. Be charming and pretty! Dance with strangers! Infect the world with your happiness!
