I was laying on the extra bed this morning, resting. I’ve been fighting with a cold for the past few days. WIth my eyes closed, my mind begins to wander and I find myself re-playing, re-living events from my past, things that I regret doing, things that I’d rather not think about, especially when I’m feeling low already. I got to thinking that if my future is a black and white cocker spaniel named Mike, what is my past? Is it a neurotic Irish setter named Ginger? This was another dog I remember from childhood. She was on a chain in the back yard and we stayed clear of her because she’d scratch us with her paws. Poor thing. She probably just wanted to be loved. Maybe my past is like her in that I should be viewing it with compassion for the person I was, regardless of things that I did or didn’t do. That makes more sense than pretending it doesn’t exist and ignoring it.