The porch is the crucible for my alchemic transformation, the place where my iron-clad persona meets the heat that facilitates my golden Self to emerge. It is the monk’s cell where I encounter my tenacious façade and the therapist’s office where my defense mechanisms are revealed. This sacred site is the garden of Gethsemane where I wrestle with my pride, allow it to be crucified, and receive my resurrection. It is also the nursery of Mama Daddy’s lap where…