I can’t speak with certainty about very many things. Oh, but I have my suspicions…. I suspect that soy isn’t nearly as good for us as they say it is. I suspect that almost every conspiracy theory contains a kernel of truth. I suspect that many of today’s known facts will someday be in the same dustbin as flat earth theory. I suspect that consciousness is far more phenomenal, enduring and individual than anything religion or neuroscience can begin to explain. I suspect that fashion designers secretly sit around laughing at what they can sucker women into wearing. I suspect that the final season of LOST is going to be a disappointment. I suspect that rock and roll does more for curing depression than Prozac and that jazz can inspire genius. I suspect that I’m rambling. Again.
But there is one thing I know: love is real. Whether this universe is merely Newtonian-mechanical or M-theory dimensional — love is the stuff that fires it up and keeps it humming. Love. Jesus was right about it. So was John Lennon. And I’m lucky enough to have great treasure troves of it — indeed, probably more than my share.
Today, I want everybody to revel in a giant rave-worthy love buzz because it’s my wedding anniversary. Today marks 8 beautiful years with my beloved — the one who puts up with all my rants and suspicions and who loves me anyway. My Zen-trickster groom. My comrade and champion. The smartest man I’ve ever met. The world’s best father. The love of my life.
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