As the wind blows, I know why I’m a writer. Because life is in balance; like a seesaw, it tips. I see through a lens that looks for what’s interspersed as opposites—each sting has a petal. I can hear what you see when I am grateful to be alive.

I am happy for the miracles that occur in healing sometimes. Surreal, yet not. For instance, it is known in some cancer patients with x months left to live—as deemed by their doctors—that to embrace their illness by leading a life full of bliss for the last months of life is to allow cancers go into remission.