Tomorrow will mark a year since I sang a song for my mother, an experience that still gives me goosebumps. Everything about that experience was infused with loving grace. I’m writing another post for tomorrow, but in the meantime I thought I’d share that post from last year.
Has she fled to Canada?
Is she wandering the woods of Chappaqua?
Is she holed up with Richard Simmons?
No, no, and *shudder* thank God no!
That’s what I saw outside my bedroom window this morning. I think there were probably more, but the flock flew away before I could finish counting! I then crawled back into bed to hopefully sleep off the bug that is making the rounds. I’m up finally, feeling much better, and my Fitbit says I slept…
“Because Selma shows us that America is not the project of any one person. Because the single most powerful word in our democracy is the word “We.” We The People. We Shall Overcome. Yes We Can. It is owned by no one. It belongs to everyone. Oh, what a glorious task we are given, to…
Because it is a bit addictive isn’t it, seeing the stream of horrors? Nobody wants to admit they are the type of person to peak at car accidents, but we all do it. You know, just to see if everyone is ok even though we know OF COURSE THEY ARE NOT OKAY THEY JUST CALLED JAWS OF LIFE. WHO ARE YOU FOOLING?!
Panic. I need to not feed into it. What are you feeding?
“We are being called, like our mothers and fathers, to be the moral defibrillators of our time,” [Barber] said, as the crowd rose with him for the umpteenth time. “We will shock this nation and fight for justice for all. . . .We will not give up on the heart of our democracy, not now,…
Ooof. If I read one more apocalyptic think piece I’m going to lose it. Self-care! Self-care! Self-care!
