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No two ways about it, ruts suck. Whether physical, mental, spiritual, categorical or slightly implied, sometimes you just can’t win against the sleeping, creeping threat of otherwise harmless ruts appearing along your path every now and again. Okay, maybe not you per se, but I know I can’t always avoid the pits.
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Podcast: Play in new window | Download
When you’re standing at the baggage claim in a big city airport and your suitcase pops open as it’s coming down the chute–spraying your dirty laundry, private journal pages and sundries nobody but you ever needs to see all around the carousel—the last thing you want to do is pretend it doesn’t belong to you. Because things will only get worse if you do. Your bag will spew more of its contents as if to spite you, and embarrass you in worse ways than your mama ever could until you’ve turned four shades of purple. Naturally, I know from whence I speak since it happened to me.
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