I began the morning divesting my frail selves–I seated them in a boat of conscience, sent them out across the river of cavalier intentions, hoping to “school them” while having them out of mind. It’s a Victorian principle: one sends the kiddies off to Eton, toughening them up. I waved goodbye to my fail innards, and they waved back from a flimsy Irish coracle, a rounded little boat, perfect for the psyche, a mandala with oars.
“Goodbye frail selves,” I said, waving my baton. Then I went indoors with my lions.
Planet of the Blind 