my sweetest friend

On March 25, 1998, everything in life seemed to be falling apart, so much so that I called my parents to look for support. Emotional support, not financial. They provided. I said I didn't think I could possibly get up out of bed the next day, go to work and be nice to smartass junior high kids. My mother said that however I handled the events of March 25th, the most important thing of all was that I did go to work on March 26th. She said I might find I could be nice in the middle of everything falling apart.

I listened to her about that, though it was still a time when I didn't listen to her about much. And she was right. Going to work and carrying on was the only way that I got through that time. She was also right about being nice. It turns out, at least for me, that in the middle of the greatest personal difficulties I am most able to be compassionate with others. A new tenderness arises out of that kind of pain that makes it easier to embrace others and to nurture them. When my chest is opened up my arms are opened wider.

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