Interior monograph by Grace, age. 7

As I age I'm mostly interested in myself as negative, that is, in what's wrong with me, and the influences the negative has had on my life heretofore.

Having worked my whole life on my strong points, I became strong at what I'm good at and do that reasonably well, though it's less and less engaging to me all the time.

Why, for instance, is it possible for me to go two or three whole days without exhibiting any untoward behaviors, without thinking darkly about myself, my companion, and my fellow human beings, and then erupt, or exhibit some milder reaction, in which everything I see, everyone I come into contact with is displeasing, offensive, odious etcetc.

You see the situation, don't you? And that it's a problem, in the best possible meaning of the word, 'problem,' that will engage me the rest of my life.

Yesterday I took a long break from myself. I sat in the living room of the condo I'm renting in downtown Portland and did nothing but watch my granddaughters Grace and Emerson draw picture after picture with the colored pens I'd given them.