We Walked Along The River

I Think Many People Need, Even Require, A Narrative Version Of Their Life. I Seem To Be One Of Them. Writing Memoir Is, In Some Ways, A Work Of Wholeness.

Every Human Being On The Face Of The Earth Has A Steel Plate In His Head, But If You Lie Down Now And Then And Get Still As You Can, It Will Slide Open Like Elevator Doors, Letting In All The Secret Thoughts That Have Been Standing Around So Patiently, Pushing The Button For A Ride To The Top. The Real Troubles In Life Happen When Those Hidden Doors Stay Closed For Too Long.

Drifting Off To Sleep, I Thought About Her. How Nobody Is Perfect. How You Just Have To Close Your Eyes And Breathe Out And Let The Puzzle Of The Human Heart Be What It Is.

At Forty-two, I Had Never Done Anything That Took My Own Breath Away, And I Suppose Now That Was Part Of The Problem--my Chronic Inability To Astonish Myself. I Promise You, No One Judges Me More Harshly Than I Do Myself; I Caused A Brilliant Wreckage. Some Say I Fell From Grace; They're Being Kind. I Didn't Fall. I Dove.

Knowing Can Be A Curse On A Person's Life. I'd Traded In A Pack Of Lies For A Pack Of Truth, And I Didn't Know Which One Was Heavier. Which One Took The Most Strength To Carry Around? It Was A Ridiculous Question, Though, Because Once You Know The Truth, You Can't Ever Go Back And Pick Up Your Suitcase Of Lies. Heavier Or Not, The Truth Is Yours Now.