"If love is a drug, I guess we're all sober," mourns Nerina Pallot in her song "Everybody's Gone to War." Your two-part assignment stems from that formulation. First, you should experiment with the hypothesis that love is in a sense a drug. Meditate on the fact that it literally changes your body chemistry and affects the way your mind functions. Second, make sure you're not sober. Get yourself high on love in every way you can imagine, whether that means giving generously of yourself, encouraging the best in everyone, expressing your beauty extravagantly, or making it easy for others to adore you.

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When many people talk about their childhoods, they emphasize the alienating, traumatic experiences they had. It has become fashionable to avoid reporting memories of the good times in one's past. This seems dishonest—a testament to the popularity of cynicism rather than a reflection of objective truth.

I don't mean to downplay the way your early encounters with pain demoralized your spirit. But as you reconnoiter the promise of pronoia, it's crucial for you to extol the gifts you were given in your early years: all the helpful encounters, kind teachings, and simple acts of grace that helped you bloom. Remember them now, please.
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The preceding oracle comes from my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings. It's available at Amazon or Powells.