January 1, 2012.  This is the start. I've made dinner. My son came dancing into the kitchen, announcing that--gosh, has it been that long since I've cooked?  Something tells me that I've got 29 of these New Year Days left in me. Please, God, don't let me waste them. There, another typically negative me thought. Yeah? So what. Let it go. Oh, well, he says. That's the ticket. Oh well, and left, right, left right. "He" is Thich Nhat Hahn. Chant in the moment, be in the most mundane of words like sounds, with expelled breath, like the smallest particle of what I am. Left, right, left, right, and behold, there's joy in this particulate. There is nothing to fear after all. You can do it, Girl! Boy! Child! Well, of course there is fear, but the point is that you smash through it and find stillness and peace on the other side. Physicists now say there are 11 dimensions. Get to the meadow of your making, where Jesus or some such awaits, not the shadow of Plato, although that is not altogether incorrect. And not, mind you, the afterlife, but right here, right now. Left of fear. Right of loathing. I see that my fear of you and your loathing of me don't, in fact, matter. Or are mattering less. And in not mattering, I begin to matter, and you begin to matter to me, thank God. Let us go in peace.