Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.

Surely all art is the result of one's having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further. The further one goes, the more private, the more personal, the more singular an experience becomes, and the thing one is making is, finally, the necessary, irrepressible, and, as nearly as possible, definitive utterance of this singularity. Rainer Maria Rilke

About 12 years ago, after a very long relationship had ended, I went to a tattoo convention. Blessed, I managed to come home with this wood carving of a squirrel rather than indelible ink. Art calls us. The creation belongs to us before we've seen it. When we finally lay eye upon it, it screams: "What TOOK you SO Long?" I've had plenty of people look at this squirrel, then look at me, then back at the squirrel. This squirrel didn't call to them. This both worries me, and comforts me. It's the same with the amber. (Though it admittedly has had a few more admirers.) It called to me. I answered. And for over 20 years it's the only piece of jewelry I've worn with regularity. A sort of--- pop the question--- to myself--- piece of jewelry.

This week I've had unexpected contact with old friends, old enemies, and a first love. It's as if in three days the universe expected me to do 3 months of emotional work. Picture the universe...once again a jack daw....cawing. "Here's another from your wicked past. CAW CAW. Here's the one who abandoned you. CAW. CAW. CACKLE. Wait! Another! Here's the liar and hypocrite who everyone liked better than you! CAW. CAW. Here's the one who pecked out your eyes and left you for dead!" Ok-maybe the universe is getting a little carried away.

The lesson? Oh sheesh. The lesson is that forgiveness isn't to be doled out like after school snacks. It should be a flowing fountain. I'm better with twinkies than water. But I'm working on it. As clearly they have been. And for this, I'm grateful.