It’s a balancing act —
reading the uplifting,

inspiring meditations
and then reading the

depressing news of
the day — the

violence, cruelty
criminality, buf-

foonery. He won’t
read any news of

the day before some-
thing that says

everything is okay.
It’s foundational,

the rock of love upon
which the incoherent

silliness rests and
rests, too, upon his

breast. But then he
realizes that he is

standing on the found-
ational, creational

rock that lives and
breathes and dances

under his feet playing
footsy with him, stir-

ring the Gene Kelly
and Fred Astaire as

he does the silly and
gives it a leap in

the air in the trust
that he would land

on his feet. And
by grace, he does,

most of the time.
It’s a balancing act.