Is that what Norah Jones, singer, meant when she said, “I felt like I went to somebody else’s birthday party and I ate all their cake without anybody else getting a piece.”
That’s what she told Katie Couric how she felt after sweeping the 2003 Grammy Awards. Norah’s another mutt: Her father is Indian musician Ravi Shankar, her mother is White.
If celebrate the light doesn’t call you to a place of inner peace, then think birthday candles, if that helps, candles on Norah Jones’ cake.
Then think beyond yourself. This life isn’t all just about people, you know. It’s not like we’re the center of the universe. But go ahead. Tell yourself that you are. Then…once you get over that, imagine yourself a pansy.
I don’t know what I got going about pansies, but they keep popping up. They crop up in everything I do. Maybe it’s because when you look straight into their darling faces, they keep their gaze on you and never turn away, no matter what. That’s better than most people can do. Afraid of truth, fear of forth-rightedness. It’s nearly an epidemic.
Imagine a pansy, then, one from the Pacific Northwest, in the Seattle area, crossed with, say, some exotic and strangely beautiful nocturnal flower in the Bolivian rain forest. One of the Hylocereus for example, that only comes out at night. And pansies love sun! They smile and thrive in daylight. This is a mutt-tation of which we’ll never know the challenges. What does the descendent of this poor pansy do?