If you’ve been hanging around Wonderland for a while, you might know I work as a therapist, in addition to caring for my daughter and pontificating to you all via THE INTERNET a couple times per week. Now, being a therapist involves a lot of sitting in stiff-backed chairs, mustache-twirling, pipe-smoking, and saying “mmm…mmmhmmm.” Just kidding. But seriously, I was wondering why my 1.5 year old daughter, Warrior Girl, says “uh huh” and “hmmm” all the time when my husband pointed out it is because I am a therapist. But really, being a therapist involves a whole lot of listening to things that are hard to hear, and a whole lot of sitting with people in their sadness, their anger, their despair. This is tough to do without a paradigm of life that can give meaning and/or coherence to the vast suffering we therapists (and humans in general) encounter on the daily. So not long ago, I was skating through life, not really paying attention, when suddenly I woke up and found myself in a nihilistic hellhole of absurdity. Yes, yes, I’m sure…