On December 18, I was frolicking around, giddy from a week of artistic inspiration at Art Basel Miami and a few days of being personally coached, whispering horses, bending spoons, and getting spiritually uplifted with Martha Beck, her Team, and my business manager Melanie Bates at Martha’s ranch in Central California.
Then at 9:58 am on December 19, my 6 month old puppy Bezoar was hit by a car and killed, falling closely on the heels of the untimely death of my beloved dog Grendel last Father’s Day.
In the moment I heard the news, I went from feeling over-the-moon happy to feeling flushed with a familiar and unwelcome emotion – abject terror.
The first thing I thought was, “Everything can change in a blink,” and this filled me with dread – because I’m so blissed out in my life these days that I have a great deal to lose – and this terrifies me.
Armed with the ammunition of this thought, The Gremlin went ballistic, filling my mind with evil nothings.