Chaos is truth, control is an illusion. We hold on tightly with both hands to all the things we believe we can control - fretting, worrying, twisting our insides in knots, waking up in pools of our own cold sweat certain that we can conceive every possible future, if we never sleep. But outside of us, the universe is vast unknowable in its infinite expanse. Every contingency is merely speculation, casting bets on a race not yet run. We can wallow in the muck of maybe, maybe, maybe - And lose the beautiful glisten of perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. The future will be. The present is now. Drop the weight of uncertainty, protect your joy fiercely. We cannot control the chaos, and that is ok.

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