My Little Golden Book of Phobias

We danced on Sunday and dedicated the practice to John Lewis.



Then the teacher played this song by Patty Griffin. I just lost it.

I think there is a build-up of grief, many lifetimes of grief. If we have genetic memory, the injustices we've seen and felt in our hearts and carried throughout our lives, they are so many and so deep. That's not even a proper sentence but who cares

And so I cried all morning. For all of us. Mr Lewis led an exemplary life. He wasn't a saint, he was a human man who put himself in harm's way many, many times. And there are so many more of us stepping out to confront the oppression and confusion in each other.

My brother came and went yesterday, flying back from Alaska with halibut that he caught.As I dropped him off at the airport, he turned and said, "We didn't talk about politics at all!". And them he said, "All the middle-class white people have to get off their asses and vote".

This from my brother who is suddenly a bit woke.

Sometimes we can be there for a miracle. Or maybe I never really noticed. No matter.

I must honor the sorrow and let it move me. There is always more to do.