I have six of them actually, and just visited with four of six.  Unlike the Borg, they are quite individual and distinct.  One is a big game scout now managing a deer farm for armchair hunters.  Another brother owns almost 10 small planes including a 1930s bright red Waco biplane-oh, and a sweet little dog Jelly.  Then a younger one manages multi-million dollar projects with emerging cellphone technologies.  And then there’s the brother in prison.

Stories of dysfunction and fun surround me bumping up against my heart from all directions.  Perhaps I should just keep with gratitude that right here, right now, they are safe and connected. 

We are here–I am here–it seems, just to do this up and down living, hurting, dying, laughing life as emissaries for the Divine.

Well, I’m checking in, Lover inside of me, that brothers are a good idea.