Rabbit didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

He wanted to go faster.

Santa looked at Rabbit’s name on The List (contrary to popular belief, Santa is a nondualistic deity – he has only one list) and shook his head with a knowing smile; he knew what Rabbit really needed.

So Santa broke Rabbit’s legs for Christmas.

Veterinarian nurses set Rabbit’s legs in casts for to begin healing. Unable to run, Rabbit succumbed to existential ennui and spiraled into a depression.

He blamed Santa for his misery and in fits of rage he would scream His name and rip every image of His face out of the magazines he could reach.

Even under the careful supervision of animal hospital nurses, Rabbit got himself hooked on painkillers.

When he was out of the hospital but still unable to walk, Rabbit locked himself in his apartment and watched reruns of old races. He grew a beard and became emaciated. He drank a lot – his breath reeked and his blood pressure was low. Somewhere inside of him a still, small voice screamed out for life out but he poured liquor over it until it gurgled and drowned.

Other animals called to check in on him sometimes but he pissed on his phone in a drunken stupor one night and didn’t bother to replace it.

One day he was wheeling himself out for bologna and milk. While crossing the road in a blank daze he looked up just in time to see the headlights of a pickup truck bearing down on him. He clenched his muscles and gritted his teeth, waiting for the impact, and heard a mighty crunch. Seconds later he felt a breeze on his bare fur and he opened his eyes to see his wheelchair in the middle of the road, crushed.

His little rabbit hands felt around his body. He was surprised to find that he was both alive and crying. While he had been busy being a miser, his legs had healed; it was a surprise and a relief to find that he had a will to live.

Rabbit saw the world anew.

He got a job at an organic grocery store and eventually entered in another race. This time, before the race, instead of boasting and ridiculing the other racers, he made friends and tried his best. He won bronze and was given a sportsmanship award. It felt good to run and he was thankful for his new friendships.

The following Christmas he wrote a letter to Santa that said thanks for the gift of Appreciation, and could his lessons this year  maybe be a bit more… straightforward? 

Santa laughed and fired up his sleigh.

Here’s to perseverance this holiday season – and to getting exactly what you need.


There’s a paradox in play when you follow your heart:

Following your heart almost always involves a level of uncertainty. And uncertainty breeds massive doubt and discomfort.

So in order to get the plump satisfying feeling of following your dreams, you must wade through these entirely unpleasant feelings. Bummer.

Sure, you can skirt and sidestep these feelings. But you can also rumble with them, building an armoury of lessons that you draw upon to actually overcome them. One approach takes you farther from yourself and the other, closer.

It’s a varied and visceral process, but the main point is this:
Whether you get anything worthwhile done in your life depends on how you deal with massive doubt and discomfort.


Go slowly at first. Tentatively. Timidly. Set small goals. Show up. Do something you know how to do. Suck at it. Then do something you don’t know how to do. Feel good about trying. Consider it a win.

Realize you can do some things, and start showing people what you can do. They will not be impressed. They will have feedback for you. Most of it will help you. Some of it will make you feel scared and stupid. Focus on the better stuff.

Pay attention to people who are doing what you want to do. Mimic what they do. Ask them questions – thrust on them the role of the teacher. Even a rude teacher is better than no teacher. 

See that your original idea of success was much different than your current idea of success. See this as a mark of growth. Adjust your aim.

Have a sudden and profound shift in your belief. Create ambitious and realistic goals, achieve them, build momentum.

Break through.

Then begin again. Different this time.


Picture yourself hacking through thick brush with a machete. You’ve been at it for hours, your GPS is dead, your water bottle is empty and all the people you were with have been devoured by coyotes.

Suddenly this thought comes crashing into your mind:


You used to have it this way – someone did tell you what to do: Your parents, your teachers, your friends, your boss, your banker. It felt safe to be told what to do, because the outcome was clear and binary: you either did what you were told, or you didn’t.

But now, lost in the woods, you are scared and there is no one to tell you what to do.

Except for, and don’t forget this, yourself.

Have faith in this and keep going. The woods won’t machete themselves.


Boy gets hamster as gift from his parents.

Boy puts on yellow kitchen gloves so as not to get hamster smell on hands. Boy, inexperienced with fragile creatures, picks up hamster.

Boy, overcome with mixed wave of love and awe, squeezes hamster – a little tightly. Hamster’s eyes widen in fright and bulge from pressure.

Boy’s parents urgently request a release of pressure and, to hamster’s relief, boy obeys.

Years of shame and guilt later, boy realizes that to love something you must fight the urge to squeeze the life out of it.

Turtle & Rabbit: When a great start is bad news

A great start can be great news. You got a great start! That’s great. It can also be bad news.

The hare got a great start on the tortoise. But then he got complacent and jerked off and had a nap and lost.

A fucking turtle beat a rabbit in a foot race.

People tend to credit the tortoise, all this “slow and steady wins the race” crap, but if the hare just had his shit together and didn’t fall prey to the fears of his cocky, lazy little ego, he’d be eating turtle soup.


A goat is standing on the exposed surface of a rock in a rushing stream. There are a number of rocks behind the goat, each with a surface similarly exposed above the surface of the water. It seems the goat has crossed the river by way of these rocks, and stopped on this one for some reason.

There are no more rocks in front of the goat, only the firm dirt bank of the greenest, grassiest field any farm animal could dream of. It looks like the place for a goat to be.


The goat is not moving. He is shaking, and his hooves are crowded on the last rock, which is itself shaking, beginning to give way. The water level is rising by the minute. Something bad will happen soon if the goat doesn’t move.

This is what you look like when you second-guess yourself.

Don’t be that goat standing on the last rock before the riverbank.

Keep moving.

Only you know when you’re being brave

Only you know when you’re being brave

Let’s get something straight: Being brave doesn’t mean doing what comes naturally.

Other people might call you brave but that’s not real brave. You’re a fool if you believe someone when they say you’re brave.

Being brave means facing your fears. That’s all – and that’s an intensely personal thing. You need the awareness to dig deep and the humility to admit your fears to yourself and the courage to act anyway.

Most of the time nobody knows you’re being brave.

But you do – and that’s all that counts.

On going with the flow

“The point is, not to resist the flow. You go up when you’re supposed to go up and down when you’re supposed to go down. When you’re supposed to go up find the highest tower and climb to the top. When you’re supposed to go down, find the deepest well and go down to the bottom. When there’s no flow, stay still. If you resist the flow, everything dries up. If everything dries up, the world is darkness.”

Mr. Honda – The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

Sleep when you’re tired. Smile when you’re happy. Laugh when life’s absurd. Frown when you’re perturbed. Dance when music moves you and stay still when you’re scared stiff. Hug when you feel love and hug even more when you feel fear. Celebrate when you win and celebrate when you lose.

Embody every nuanced expression of your being as deeply as you can.

That’s how you experience life – that’s how you go with the flow.