There is a situation I can't talk about that has been unfolding over the course of years, and it is making my heart so heavy, and I just need to acknowledge that. It appears that nothing can be done to fix this broken thing, as all parties would need to be willing, and all parties are not, and everyone is righteously sure of the wounds sustained and insufficiently aware of the injuries inflicted—myself included. This morning, I'm thinking a lot about the wisdom of letting things be what they are, and the notion that suffering is often complicated by the belief that we should not suffer, and also the idea that suffering is caused and deepened by our response to what happens, the way we think about it, rather than the event itself. All this to say, I am trying to live with what is, to really absorb that it is, and to stop courting this crushing sadness by wishing it to be different, when it likely will never be. I have managed in the past to put it out of my mind for long stretches of time, and then it returns, and I can't ever quite shake it, because it hurts the ones I love most, and therefore I cannot be indifferent. I might be having a little trouble with the lessons on suffering right now, but this I have learned: The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.