I was walking in the park, looking at massive old trees with evidence of branches lopped or broken off. Yet they all felt distrinctly whole. I was thinking about a friend who was about to have a mastectomy. She is grieving her lost breasts bitterly prior to the surgery.

Why do we humans think we should survive with all parts intact, that only that is wholeness?

My wonderful former assistant Mira Keras is a great example of WHOLE with a piece missing. Her leg was amputated when she was a teenager, the solution to a life threatening health issue. Her experience of a taken-away leg has made her more whole than most people I know: wise, patient, immensely resourceful and creative. She is wildly, wholly herself. (Read her many insightful Improvised Life articles here...)

As I think about my friend struggling to come to grips with loss, and the many people I know who feel less than, I remember a question that I heard years ago: