I lean toward Pollyanna, I know that. Even when I’m prostrate with grief, I know that somewhere someone is singing: “The sun will come out, tomorrow…” and yet, as I know only too well, you can’t rush past the truth of grief… and not everything is beautiful.

Not every body of water is navigable and many are treacherous. To deny that, to defy that is dangerous; in some cases even stupid. That’s true with floods, and it’s true with simple water on stone…

So, as I look for metaphors for peace, i realize they have to include the way beautiful things have the potential to be dangerously overwhelming… All our movements toward peace need to be carefully considered, because Peace is both wildly abundant and quite carefully measured. Our job, as always, dammit, is discernment — and then adjustment.