Tom was respected because he cared for people, and he was loved because he cared for people.

Dick was respected because he told people the truth, and he was hated because he told people the truth.

Harry was respected because, while he was no Tom, he wasn’t a Dick.

Work, but not too much.
Rest, but not too much.
Dance, laugh, revel and party,
Cry, howl, grieve and be somber,
But not too much.

Dote on your child, boast and be proud.
Admonish and discipline to teach.
Show them the beauty and joy in the world.
Point out the horrors, the evils, the dark.
But not too much.

And love.
Love until your heart explodes,
Until your body collapses,
Until the earth claws you back into her body.
Love until every part of you forgets what is to not love.
Love until exhaustion.
Love past exhaustion.
Love until the limit,
And you will find no limit.

We continually create narratives, of varying degrees of fantasy, to make order of a world that overwhelms and confuses us, “mathematics” being perhaps the most fantastical narrative of them all.

Math is a story that presumes the universe, far larger than our humble brains can comprehend, was created through a small series of beautifully precise rules.

I don’t know what is more fascinating – the thought of the hubris and insecurity that drives us to imagine that fantasy could be true, or the hope and thought that perhaps it is.