It's been 8 years since I first had a child. My mind is back in place and it's no longer constantly foggy. I suspect I may be smarter, and if not smarter, wiser. I spent five years working in a homeless shelter. The people were radiant, but the systems were cruel. I worked on a disability studies degree and discovered a new language for describing my world. I found a new community, too. I had a second child, one that didn't talk for many months, and still prefers touch to conversation. It makes it hard to "talk about feelings," but only if I close my mind to the many ways we talk.
I'm now coming full-circle, back to my religious studies days. Today I heard the word "animistic" for the first time in 15 years. I'm so lucky! I'm so lucky.
I don't think I'll be writing here much any more, but I tell stories all the time. I spent a couple of years telling my children original stories every night before bed. Some were good; some devolved into a recurring character named "wormy pants" and his band of garden friends.
Actually, what happened was that I logged into an old email. I started reading emails from old friends. We used to send each other letters via email. Do you remember this? I logged into my email, which logged me into my blog, and here I am. 8 years later, writing a blog post now.
I want to tell you that things are shifting. The tone of conversations are frightening. Someone said that the earth is dying, but then another one of us thought that we might be over dramatic in believing that the content of our lives, our microscopic lives, must contain the end of the world.
Nothing is certain. But I'm certain that all of us have a nagging feeling that something is off. We are expressing it in different ways, primarily in different forms of self-destruction.
Like I said, my early training in religion is coming back. I'm humbled that I've made it this far.
