OK...mental health day at the clinic, and I am driving home dreaming about my little fresh grapefruit special with a splash of Kettle One. Then I started thinkin' about who makes the laws that dictate what is legal and what ain't??? Like why should something as toxic as ETOH be legal, when other substances are not?
How arbitrary is our freedom...and our mental health? Who makes the rules and who enforces them? In another time I could have been burned for being a midwife, imprisoned for fighting against Diablo Canyon, stabbed for being gay, fired for fighting for basic human rights in a system that denies our human-ness...and much more that I can't even write about.
I look at my wrinkled, old hands and think of all the dirt these hands have been in...digging to plant something that may sprout beauty and nourishment in a dismal world, somehow hoping that this dirt can grow what we need to survive, if we can just keep planting the seeds, watering the soil and believing in that process... and remind each other of this constantly...this love...this little seed in a big pile of dirt...
And besides that, Milou finally figured out how to jump up on my bed, so I don't have to help her up anymore. And my little, beautiful granddaughtie sang me a song about the four oceans and the seven (7, right?) continents and spelled Titanic all on her own. How awesome is that?
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