I could tell you about the outrageous shopping trip with Lil’ and Anxiety during which much snacky goodness was purchased in between snarky phone calls to Mari for ice cream advice.

But I won’t.

I could tell you about the delightful evening spent in the company of the aforementioned Mari, her eerie Irish doppleganger Lyse, and the always-alluring Lilith.

But I won’t.

I could tell you about the searing, mind-numbing emotional depression and angry outbursts I suffered this morning, likely spawned by too many weeks spent under too many kinds of intense stress.

But I won’t.

I could tell you about how my friends, among whose number I count the aforementioned ladies as well as Wendi and her friend Amy, collectively brought me back to something resembling normalcy through the simple expedient of being caring and supportive.

But I won’t, which shouldn’t be regarded as a lack of gratitude.

I was sitting at my new desk, pondering all of the above and thinking about a journal entry, when I noticed that among the books unearthed during the mini-move on Saturday is my copy of “The Way Of Life,” better known as Lao Tzu’s Tao Teh Ching. Using my old favorite technique from Richard Bach’s “Illusions,” I flipped open to a random page and started reading.

21

The surest test if a man be sane

Is if he accepts life whole, as it is,

Without needing by measure or touch to understand

The measureless untouchable source

Of its images,

The measureless untouchable source

Of its substances,

The source which, while it appears dark emptiness,

Brims with a quick force

Farthest away

And yet nearest at hand

From oldest time unto this day,

Charging its images with origin:

What more need I know of the origin

Than this?

I leave the meaning of this as an exercise for the reader. Me, I just wanted to share a bit of something I don’t show very often: My soft spot for philosophical mumbo-jumbo.

Please have a pleasant evening. Relax. Be well.