I'm a little worm, a moggot, a larva, and i'm spitting up all over myself. Making a mess, making myself a cacoon. It's time to change, to be reborn. I can no longer live my life crawling on the ground. I want to learn to fly, to be a beautiful butterfly (or a moth), and to pollinate flowers and stuff (whatever moths do). It's going to take some time to change, and I may be stuck in the same place for a while to do it. But a new day is upon me, and I refuse to be what I was.


(just finished my didactic, about to start my preceptorship. I'm loving it so far. But the real challanges lie ahead. Thing's are different this time.)

I had a great day, i'm so sad.

In the midst of a vast, even, medium, the highs and lows remind us what it feels like to be alive. I find that I cannot feel one without the other. In the pit of despair there is comfort, and in the thralls of ecstasy lies defeat. I think it is mistaken to wish only for one extreme. To wish only for the highs, for the happy moments, is to rob them of meaning. It is only in light of suffering that joy can be made real. And to shun the pain is to deny that which makes us human. The yin and the yang are to be embraced together, as one whole.