It was another bizarre week. Last Tuesday, there was a peacock in my backyard. Feral peacocks aren't a thing. And none of my neighbors own a peacock. So I decided this was a fairly magical event. Peacocks can symbolize rebirth, beauty, and wealth, and I chose to believe that.
I then proceeded to have a week of calamities. At one point, I was on the roof of my restaurant scraping fryer grease with my bare hands. At another, I was sanding wooden tables in the middle of a thunderstorm. But unlike other calamitous weeks, I wasn't emotionally taken down by anything, because all the while, I was believing in the beauty, richness, and the potential for rejuvenation in our lives.
There was a mystical peacock forcefield around my mind, and I'll be damned if it didn't work.
Reader, this week my moral is this: it doesn't hurt to believe that good things will come. Because even if they don't, the bad times are far more sufferable. Wishing you a similar positive forcefield in the week ahead. See you next Monday. -Em
