I understand that part of this anger is about my own deep wounds. My own story of harm by a mad man–and the perceived betrayal of the otherwise sane people who knew better than to believe a madman and ultimately align with a mad man.
This is also what I know about being wounded: there is no greater pain that not being seen. We don’t expect a mad man to see or understand our pain. He’s not capable of it. But the ones who we know are capable of empathy and love? We except better.
Ooof. If I read one more apocalyptic think piece I’m going to lose it. Self-care! Self-care! Self-care!
What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb? What if our… Read more So let us take one another’s hand and push together.
“On Friday we wept, on Saturday we marched, on Sunday we rested. Today we get to work. What will you… Read more Give light and People will Find the Way.
How will you feed your soul? What will help it grow?
What do you pledge? What do you believe in and what do you hope to dream into being for our democracy in these coming weeks and years? How can you share your own gifts?
When a male painted bunting feels threatened it sings out a loud, clear, beautiful song from its perch, all the while… Read more Be like the Painted Bunting