A despair hits me the moment my thoughts stir at the start of most days, a single question fretted with doubt and weariness: Why get up? My eyes remain closed. Sometimes I shift my weight. I feel powerless to cut the question short or dodge its insistence, as if it holds me to mattress.

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I look up and see the clouds clearing. They are patches of water droplets condensed on dust particles, formless and drifting until they dissolve into rain and vapor. The cold wind brushes past my face ( Read more... )

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The more I live, the less order I find in the world. Inequality, chaos, and injustice permeate it, destroying absolutes and challenging my concept about how the world works--or "should work" according to the frail model formed in my psyche. But the more I see that order wash away, the less I care--in a liberating way ( Read more... )