Dear Love, Infinite Kindness—aka Infinite Knowing,
What the fuck?
It seems like you have a plan that I don’t know about, don’t understand, and frankly… don’t trust.
Do you need some help with decision-making?
Because I think you might.
Really—are you trying to destroy democracy, start World War III, build an AI invasion to take over our jobs, purpose, and relationships…
and also destroy the planet?
Is that the plan?
Or is this one of those movies where everything looks like it’s ending, and then at the very last second—
or nanosecond—
something survives?
Like a long, slow shot of a dandelion pushing her brave little head up through scorched, blackened earth,
stretching her green arms out,
offering her ridiculous, glorious yellow face to the sun.
Is that real?
Or is that virtual now too?
Honestly, I can’t tell anymore.
I know that in my own head, I’ve had visions of World War III.
Bombs.
Violence.
Shooting people.
But usually it’s because someone stole my parking spot
or kicked my cat off her favorite napping chair.
And when I actually slow down and look—
I can see I’m fine.
The cat is fine.
No one is dying.
It’s just the telenovela in my head.
But what happens when it’s not just in my head?
Because there are things happening right now that I want to laugh at and say,
“Oh, that’s just a story.”
I want them to be fiction.
But I’m starting to suspect that the real fiction…
is the idea that life will keep going the way I know it.
So what do we do?
What do I do?
Honestly—I don’t know.
If you do know, please feel free to tell me.
What I am going back to is this:
Byron Katie says there are three kinds of business in the world:
My business.
Your business.
God’s business.
My business is what I think, feel, say, and do.
Your business is what you think, feel, say, and do.
God’s business is… everything else.
The problem is—
I really want to control your business.
And I really, really want to control God’s business.
Especially right now.
Honestly, I think God needs a lifeline.
Phone a friend.
Call me. I have ideas.
But somehow, even though we’re friends …
That still isn’t my business.
And staying in my business?
It’s hard.
Because I don’t want to look at where I am:
destroying my own peace
tightening my own body
making enemies in my own mind
saying one thing and doing another
telling half-truths to protect my ego
No.
It’s much easier to look out there and say:
Stop it.
Stop it or I will lock you in a box.
Me stopping it?
Good God.
I don’t know if I can do that.
But I sure expect everyone else to.
I know this much:
I can tantrum, fight, blame, threaten, curse—
and life will keep moving.
People will keep doing what they’re doing.
The only difference is…
they might start avoiding me.
Meanwhile, my own shit—
my stuck places, my patterns—
they just sit there.
Waiting.
Patiently.
They’ll wait a lifetime if I let them.
But I don’t want to wait a lifetime.
Because it’s miserable to live so afraid.
So this morning, I sat down—
pen in hand—
and looked at my own damn business.
Where I am polluting my own life.
Where I am out of integrity..
Where I am not telling the whole truth. .
I’m working on it.
And for those of you who would like me to go faster—
lovingly—
shut the fuck up
and do your own work.
I’m going as fast as I can!
So God, life, other people—
you go ahead and do your thing.
Ignore all of my very good suggestions.
I’ll be over here—
with my pen, my paper, and my coffee—
cleaning up my own mess.
Because the shit show out there?
It will come.
In ways we don’t expect.
In forms we wouldn’t choose.
For each one of us.
And when it comes—
the only thing I can do anything about
is who I am in the middle of it.
That’s my business.
And I’m working on it.
Slowly.
One pile at a time.
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