When we were little my Granny made us collect donations for Unicef. She found the deeper heartbeat of life, my Granny. She had a few friends, lovely and intricate souls, who knew her well, like wise old Margaret Kerr, and spunky Jamaican Helen. Granny saw life move around her like a brilliant kaleidoscope. People were just different strokes of a steadily sweeping paintbrush. And all was still, in her little bedroom, where she was often alone with her breath, slowly moving in and out.

If you flip over a large rock or two along the shoreline of the ocean, you will uncover a world of naked wonders. You will see a limpet or some barnacles. You will scoop up a tiny crab with a beehive imprint on her belly. You may uncover a grainy purple star. And you will understand that some treasures take searching for. Zillions are never found.

Then you will not be mad if you are different; if you’re just too fragile or too ornery or too emotional and you’ve broken the mold. It won’t hurt so much when a group of girls get quiet as you near them. If you’re offbeat maybe you’re a jazz drum. Maybe you’re something that Debussy dreamed up. Breathe; you are certainly the work of a grand creator.

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