The secret is to have no secrets. Be like the open bloom of anything—inspectable, without guile. The valley will let me look into it if I climb to the proper vantage. Nightly, the far-away sky discloses what I cannot comprehend. Still, confusion is a worthy goal if it produces a sweetness that others can take away. Mothers and bees will understand me. I am one of those cups that can’t be carried without spilling a little wine.