I like to keep my hands empty so I can clap or grasp, in case something is laudable or reachable. I like to keep my mouth empty so I can laugh or remark, in case something is laughable or remarkable. "Emptiness," I often explain to my disciples, "is potential. There is no potential in satiation." "But surely," some disciple might ask, "a satiation of one kind prepares us for potential of another kind?" I always send my disciples away eventually. Follow me or don't follow me, but don't question the things I say. I'm just making this stuff up. I refuse to defend myself.
I always keep money and keys in my front, right pocket. I keep my wallet in my back right. My office key card and cell phone are in my left front pocket. My back, left pocket, however, is always empty. Everything I've ever placed in there has been lost, abandoned or forgotten. That's why I call that pocket my "Left Behind."
It's a bright and sunny day, dear friends, but don't be fooled. Here in my city it's cold enough to paralyze you, shocked and frozen in the biting wind. You will roll up into a ball like an armadillo and scream silently until Hill Giants come to pluck you up, carry you to their caves, sit you by the fire, warm you with the theurgy of some arcane draught, and tell you stories of times long past. Their laugh, that of the Hill Giants, is like healing to the human soul. Always thank them for their kindness. Always call them friend. Always look them in the eye. They will save us all from this fell winter. Then they'll carry us back to our cars so we can do our various errands.
I always leave the last paragraph empty so it can say whatever you need it to say to you, in case one of you is laudable or reachable or laughable or remarkable.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
