I am about to tell you a goofy, true story about myself and how I learned to find my heart.
On a crisp fall morning about four years ago, I was walking along on my standard route to the coffee shop, when, suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. Lying on the ground in front of me was a dead squirrel; its eyes closed in eternal sleep. I stood there, transfixed, staring at the lifeless being as other pedestrians, bicyclists, and motorists stared at me. I was so very, very sad for that squirrel. One minute it was living its life, gathering acorns and climbing trees and doing its squirrel thing, and the next minute it was all over. No more acorns. I felt for all that the squirrel had lost, and it made me so sad that I started crying. In fact, even now, the thought of that squirrel makes me cry.
This sadness was a very, very good thing for me. You see, I can be quite stoic in my life, squelching down my feelings about things that are way more important to me than squirrels. I can get...
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