Mine is a curved life. Like cupped hands, the bowl of my life holds first one thing and then another. Many times my life has tipped over and spilled its contents, only to fill again, with horses, with poetry, with medicine, with psychiatry, psychology, with lovers, healing, wilderness, painting, evolution, discipleship, sculpture. Even before I was born, the fragile flesh of this body and the spirit that moves it came into an unfathomable harmony. Who can say how the feast within this bowl will taste tomorrow?