when I see things coming at me that cause me to worry, I don’t see a problem in assuming they might happen the way that I fear, and making plans accordingly. After all, I’m often right, about both my worries and my hopes.
“I don’t try to avoid the pain. I meditate on it. I notice its breadth and depth. I rewrite it by refusing to avoid the sensation by contorting my frame. I stand as strong as I can… no matter how hard this pain pushes back.”
“I remember the smell of the food cooking on the stove; I remember running and laughing though the clumps of grown-ups, seeing a room full of boots and shins and knees like so many stalks of the river cane in my backyard that made up the tall forests for my playtime.