I never cease to be comforted and pleased by the morning sun shining on the lemon tree in the backyard.
During all my years in Catholic religious orders, I never had any sexual contact with a teenager. Hell, I never had sexual contact with a teenager when I was a teenager!
St Thomas Aquinas tries to explain why you cannot hate your neighbor in himself, but you can hate things in him. You can hate your enemy by hating his hostility to you while not hating him...God, it's all so complicated.
Twice in the last month I have had the ambivalent experience of a successful course of therapy with men who came with a problem and left with it solved. I am happy about that. But they also took with them part of my livelihood. One of them, not an American, asked me at our last session if it was customary to leave a tip for therapists, because he want to show his appreciation. Ethics, alas, required that I decline.
My family's conflicts in the wake of my mother's death have left me walking around with my stomach in a knot for the last weeks. Given the splits in both parents' families, maybe it's just our sad genetic destiny. I hate it.