As I begin this blog post, I am sitting in bed, sipping coffee. It is early morning. A series of waves of Canada geese are going overhead. I can’t see them, but I can hear them crying into the sky as they make their way onward. I think of Mary Oliver, of course, and remember that I do not have to be good. That here on Earth, there is a place for me in the family of things. As that youthful sage (and paragon of white privilege, to be honest), Ferris Bueller, would tell us: life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you…