I had this blog almost ready to send Wednesday morning. It started like this: "I choose hope in 2021, in spite of everything that could still go wrong—COVID, political turmoil, record snowstorms like we had here in upstate NY last week, failing to get a book deal." Had I sent it, I would have felt foolish. That afternoon, watching the siege of the US Capital unfold, my hope was overpowered by fear and bewilderment. Yet hope still chooses me.
Living life large seems to be what society values. Why didn't it feel right for me?