Jack [Kornfield] knotted a number of blessings into my cord last year when he tied it to my wrist, to protect me from the values and judgment of the world, from the disaster of my own thinking, and to allow me the forgetting of myself. I tug at the red chord constantly; it was an anointing of sorts, and I will take all the anointing I can get.
— Anne Lamott, Plan B