Monthly Archives: August 2025

Aug6

a new religion called NOPE

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“STOP letting your mental health be damaged by systems that were never designed to protect it!” – Sheila Hammond

If someone asks you if you’ve heard the latest news, and you think, “Dear God, please let it be aliens,” you are not broken. Sheila Hammond has made the YouTube channel I wish I’d thought of. She is funny, and she is tellin’ it like it is! She’s done offering her sanity to systems that profit off her exhaustion. Amen, sister. Amen.

You can care about the world and you can set boundaries. You can opt out of chaos without opting out of your values. You can disengage without being in denial. You can scream into the void…and log off for a nap. Personally, I am done with risking participation in anything likely to jerk me around emotionally. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

In recent posts I have written about losing friends and family members because I won’t attend the protest march (what you resist persists) or join the group or contribute to the cause or watch the news. Don’t get me wrong, I respect them immeasurably. Their heart is in the right place. If I feel compelled to do so, I do know how. As far as I know I still have an FBI record from being arrested in the protests in Detroit during the 60’s and 70’s. Meanwhile that isn’t how I’m most effective. That does not mean I am sitting here doing nothing – but it is amazing the changes you can implement silently from your sofa once you get focused.

It’s scary at first to realize your personal power. However, you have to pull your spirit back into your body and listen. In order to overcome the addiction of culture you have learn to stop the performance art you called life for the past decades, otherwise you won’t know your authentic voice when it speaks. And it does. I hope you’ll join the me in the religion of NOPE. Because as Sheila says, sanity is trying to stage a comeback.

“I command my spirit into my body in full at this time.” – Carolyn Myss, Anatomy of the Spirit

May I suggest we nurture a song worm today:

Aug5

“I mean…where do I start?”

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Rabbit Hole Alert. Ohhhh….boy. If you’ve been here at the blog for long, you may remember how obsessed I was a few years ago with the BBC series called The Detectorists. I’ll still aver that it was one of the all-time best ever television series. Then, just yesterday I discovered The Lost Words. Low and behold, the artists of both have worked together. No surprises there. Remember, ultimately it will be the artists who save us.

This beautiful series explores the tender world of the autistic genius, of how sweet friendships are, and how difficult romance (or any form of emotional intimacy) for those who hang by a thread on society’s hem…it’s about paying attention and persistence and most of all it’s about dreaming.

Renowned actor Rachel Stirling apparently petitioned her friend Mackenzie Crook for the role of his wife as she wanted to participate in the series. And when her mother, Dame Diana Rigg, heard about the series she asked to be in it. So she plays the part of Rachel Stirling’s (Becky’s) mother. Between the 2nd and 3rd seasons Dame Diana Rigg sadly died. So Mackenzie Crook re-wrote Season 3 to include her character’s death. The talent that gathered to participate in this series brings so much for our enjoyment, not the least of which was Johnny Flynn writing the musical score. You’ll laugh and cry, but you’ll never feel the same about these goofy characters or the nerdy brainiacs they represent. My own autistic genius child went right out and bought himself a metal detector after watching this! It reminds us that the ordinary and invisible in our culture are precious beyond measure. It is a gem.

Aug4

sing your heart to all dark matter

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“Now I become myself. It’s taken time, many years and places…” – May Sarton

Let’s face it, I have far fewer years left than I have already lived. That isn’t what makes me sad. What makes me sad is that I feel like I’m just getting started. Late, I’m just starting to get the hang of this life thing. And my hungry heart wants more.

Part of my infinite wonder and curiosity is an ongoing fascination with words and language. Maybe everyone else knew this, but I just discovered that every year the Oxford Dictionary drops words no longer used regularly in the cultural vocabulary. It adds new ones, too. So I’ve begun researching this. And I would just like to say that I unequivocally do not like what I see.

For instance, in 2024 some of the words dropped from the Junior Dictionary were acorn, heron, fern, kingfisher, otter, wren and willow. They were replaced with the new vernacular: blog, broadband, bullet-point and voicemail. I am LITERALLY lost for words. I vote for the inclusion of the cultural slang phrase WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Seriously. What is wrong with us?

The summer has been nothing short of surreal. Where are the birds? I used to have so many here, and yes, I have stopped feeding them thistle. Bird feeders convenient to my door bring mice and deer, bear, many smaller predators, and they all carry the tiny, deadly tick – which admittedly I am afraid of. I’m not going to wander afield to fill feeders. But I have natural thistle and honeysuckle and quince and all manner of flower and fauna. I do sincerely hope that my behavioral change is the only reason for the birds’ noticeable absence. Meanwhile, smoke fills the sky. You can see sunlight on the trees and shrubs, but when you look up the sky is flat grey. The air quality alert remains dangerously high for “sensitive groups.” Aren’t all creatures of nature sensitive? Hey Lord, there are too many canaries in this coal mine.

I’ve been saying for a couple of decades now that it will be the artists who save us. Let’s also face this: they’re our only hope. This group certainly bolsters that argument – The Lost Words used the words dropped from the dictionary to write a song, a blessing spell for us, and put it to music.

“EVEN AS THE HOUR GROWS BLEAKER, BE THE SINGER AND THE SPEAKER…” – The Lost Words

Aug3

one way only

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Success! My rain spell worked. Which is to say, I left my laundry hanging out on the line all night. Never underestimate me.

A beautiful friend came to visit yesterday afternoon. I was a bit verklempt. I almost cancelled, but I really wanted to see her. It’s been too long. The overwhelm was only because it came at the end of an insanely busy week. By insanely busy I mean 2 things: 1) I had at least one activity scheduled every day, and 2) I never got a nap all week. I usually nap every afternoon.

As it happened this past week I had 2 medical appointments scheduled which had been weeks on the calendar, and I had to cancel them for more pressing medical issues which required immediate attention. I also had to cancel lunch with my friend on Tuesday as I couldn’t drive to meet her. She was concerned about me and drove the hour out to my house on Saturday.

My house is very purposely located on a spit of land that elbows out into Lake Michigan, affectionately referred to by locals as The Land of Oz. I say purposely because I moved here precisely because it is a destination of some determination, ie; not on the way to anywhere. Nobody just drops in. I detest dropper-inners.

When I moved out here on this precipice of life and beauty I had to drive to the post office for my mail. They didn’t deliver mail here just outside the village limits. Yes, that was 2018. I had to join with 3 neighbors and petition the post office for mail delivery, clear and level a path next to the road and install mail boxes. We get mail delivery now, but not necessarily daily. They will deliver your mail when they darn well get around to it. It’s a privilege, and don’t you forget it. I do appreciate it. I know they are short staffed, and I appreciate having a local post office. Many villages around here do not.

Friday I received a new deck of tarot cards in the mail, so I opened them after lunch with my friend. We sat on my very long, deep sofa (a.k.a. Mom’s Cosmic Healing Sofa) and shuffled, talking, laughing and kvetching…and we each drew a card, which took our mundane conversation in a deeper direction.

One of my many withdrawals in recent years has been from the practice of reading and channeling professionally. Because, well, people. Most people don’t really want to be challenged to grow, to face their shadow, to look at the habits no longer serving them. They don’t want to sit in the present moment until the tears come. It isn’t comfortable. It is, however, priceless. The tarot is so beautifully designed for exactly this work, and I cannot use it otherwise. I mean, sure, you can use it to access any information you want to know. I can astral travel anywhere and spy on anyone. I won’t. I can psychically answer all your questions. I won’t. Those are parlor tricks. As Geraldine Jones would say, “that is not my job!”

During her visit, we talked about my friend’s daughter-in-law, who has also been living with chronic Lyme disease. She is much younger than I and has suffered far worse for much longer. We spoke about healing, but my compassionate friend asked about how I deal with pain and not being able to function some days. I told her it has been my greatest teacher. When I am ill (sometimes on the bathroom floor at 3 a.m.) I pray. It’s the only help. I pray with each breath. All I say is: “Thank you.”

Thank you for this body. Thank you for this pain in my liver. Thank you for my life. Thank you for my home, for this bed, for this sweet feline companion, for my beautiful son. Thank you for my big, violent, fu#ked up family – and for the fight in them. Thank you for friends, long-standing and patient, brand new and welcoming. Thank you…for the purpose this illness serves though I do not understand it. Thank you.

Thank you…”so that I can have this one way, along with every other way, to know that I am here.”