This entry originally contained a letter to God, a transcript of one of the conversations we have periodically, just to check in and say hi. But I think maybe they're better left for me.

Thinking about the loss of connections to other people...to have something complex and deep and rich and ever-present, and more or less suddenly it's gone. It's kind of a wonder to me we don't all go insane, growing and losing psychic limbs like that. What are we? What's left in the absence of someone we've put time and energy into? Memories, lessons, experience, growth. It must be worthwhile somehow, I keep doing it.

I shouldn't have left Mexico. I should find a quiet corner of the world and stay there. Grow beets, and sell them to other people because I hate beets. Build a shack based on the principles of theater construction, then build it again three weeks later because it fell down. Fish, hunt rabbits, make furniture, build houses, teach English. Do something with my life.

Or I can just stay here with the life I actually have, and look at the nice clouds and trees and feel the flowers try to talk to me when they come and watch and play with all the people connected together by all those threads they can't see. I can feel myself as part of the unfolding epic of being human. I can let go. I can have faith.

Check out bizarre pictures of aerogel.

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