Evolution

Today, with the book out after all these years, an actual copy sitting here on my desk, the caveman slinks back into his lair and I evolve a little bit. Stand up a little bit straighter, look ahead a little bit farther. Plus, the sun has finally come out. It's so hard to be cheerful when your whole month of April feels like a set from Blade Runner.



Fifteen years of thought in such a slim volume. Amazing. I've heard that the shortest books carry the biggest messages, and it's true that I couldn't do without The Left Hand of Darkness or the poetry of Mary Oliver, but I couldn't do without Anna Karenina, either. Hhmmm... does size really matter? An age-old question.

Things change. Archetypes come and go. Shadows form and dissolve within me.

The trick is to develop a little compassion for each one. As soon as I look right at Bob's drawing of the caveman, notice how beautiful he is in his own way, he throws down his club and starts to stand up straighter.

As soon as I admit what I'm doing, I can begin to cut it out.

Ignoring my caveman does not work as well as acknowledging his existence.

K