Eight year old Lions who got kicked in the stomach

Tonight I got a gut wrenching euphoria. I got clarity with the force of a punch in the stomach, but it's still clarity. And like my uncle once told me when I fell off my bike - Crying is not going to help that scratch on your knee - and so we move on being more careful of that hole in the driveway, a little less of a wreckless eight-year old rebel on a huffy. Not that I wanted anything or asked for anything. Maybe I wished for something. Next week, I'll realize it's for the best, for the better, but right now, I kinda feel like that wreckless eight year old who fell off his bike.

Just be kind. Be more then an image. Go beyond. Do a cart wheel in a wide open space. Make farting noises. Drink a little too much. Say too much and don't apologize. Dance like no one is watching. Have an imagination.

I saw a biography on Reagan this past weekend which I think sums up a lot of who I am (disclaimer: I am no political Reagan). He was being described by a Russian reporter  - A lion who lazily lies in the grass. He sees a gazell 100 yards away, opens his eyes and goes back to sleep. When the lion wakes up again, the gazell is 50 yards away. The lion goes back to sleep. Once again he wakes up to find the gazell 15 yards away, and the lion in all his glory gets up and roars the roar of a king and the gazell is no long in existence.

Anyway - this week is not starting off well. One more law school application to submit tomorrow!