#metoo #ibelieveyou

I am lucky enough to get to skip saying #metoo to these sexual assault and harassment posts. But I like to think that I can’t be an agent for change even for things that I haven’t personally experienced. 

If someone trusts you enough to tell you about an assault don’t say anything which conveys “what was there about the situation or your actions which makes this less true and therefore more palatable to me.” 

Just listen. Believe them. Hold them if appropriate. Love them through it. It’s not your job to establish guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. It’s your job as a friend or loved to be a friend or loved one. 

http://www.thehotline.org/ 

If you are experiencing abuse, please get help and make a plan to get out. 

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Thoughts on Greatness 

A friend on Facebook asked what his friends think makes America great. Genuine thoughtful multiword answers. 

This is challenging to answer because I don’t feel like we are that great anymore. Nor have we been for a while. The folks I hear wanting to make America great again seem to want to go back to a time when everyone knew their place and kept quiet if they didn’t like it. 

Before the money was freed from actual gold. Before inflation outpaced earnings. 

But I didn’t really mean to spin off that direction. 

This is my answer:

The things that I feel make us great are pretty shaky lately. Great innovation, brilliant and creative thinkers. The ideal that we are all in it together and rise or fall together. The role of protector. We used to fight for the little guy, there’s a whole lot of “every man for himself” anymore. 

Ideals over profit. Especially in government.

We used to be a nation of ideals and values that could be looked up to. And even if you didn’t agree with our methods, as not everyone does, you knew that the intention was usually pretty good. Our hearts were in the right place. 

Now our hearts are in our pockets and we just carry a bigger stick than anyone else. 

Can’t unhear it. 

I dig The Bee Gees. I like a lot of their music and think that they seemed nice in all the interviews I’ve seen them in. 

Recently I was listening to one of their songs and all of a sudden I heard the lyrics and really listened to what they were saying. 

You don’t know what it’s like

To love somebody 

The way that I love you”

Uh, no. I guess I couldn’t possibly. I mean there’s no way it’s at all equitable. 

Or maybe I don’t know at all. And you’re some creepy stalker type. Burning in some unrequited love fantasy about me. 
Ergh. This keeps playing in my head now. Maybe it will ease off now that I’ve released it into the wild. 

My new idea

I just used up the last of my planetary book of stamps.  It occurred to me that the frame left behind might make for fun pictures. 


So I cut out tha middle of the backing sheet and applied a bit of black marker here and there. 

Ta Da!!

Fancy little frame. 


So far I’ve discovered that I need to give it a sturdier back. It’s windy out. 

Dramatic Incident Pending 

Just read a story about a couple who was getting married. 

Everything was fine. 

Nothing went wrong. Everything went off without a hitch. I kept waiting for a dramatic incident. Kidnapping, cheating, person left at or near the alter, car wreck, I don’t know. 

Usually there is something that hitches the getalong. Then it gets solved and we carry on. 

But we carry on, I think, more appreciative of the good in the face of the bad. 

When things go good for a while it can sometimes be easy to slip into taking it for granted and then getting sort of bogged down in the little irritants that can fill the empty space of out everyday routines. 

But, when something big and bad happens there is a cleaning up of mental clutter to only focus on the important things. 

I call it getting hit with the Perspective Stick. Sometimes life will whack you a good one to make you pay attention. Like the monks in the stories did. 

After my mom died I had a clear moment when I needed to go to the store to get toilet paper because we were low and I remember being so mad that my mom was dead and I still had to get tp. It seemed so unimportant and mundane when this big thing had happened. And that even though my world had stopped, the whole world hadn’t. 

The pain, to me, is a blinding white hot fire that it burns through the drybrush, clearing away any useless tinder laying around. And you can clearly see the rocks that remain; family, friends, kids. 

So while I certainly appreciate the times when nothing particularly exciting is happening as a time to rest and regroup, I try to hold on to that nugget of clarity from the painful, exciting dramatic incidents that have happened. 

Mother 

Can’t hardly believe it’ll be 7 yrs soon. 

Missing you

Often think of you

Taking a moment to remember the good times we had

Having you for a mom was a GOOD THING. 

Even when we were stubbornly fighting would be better than this not-at-all stuff. 

Really really miss you

Celebrate Women

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