a civilization of love

This week has been yet another rife with unrest, which I certainly don’t need to review tonight. But, I will ask, as I often do, for you to step away from the drama in Washington or the horror splattered across your screens or whatever is churning you away from finding some peace. As I write this, I am aware of my privilege to walk away. I can look out my window and easily find solace in a blue forgiving sky. Perhaps, you too can take a break for a moment. Time it if you must. But long enough to breathe.

If you are a Catholic, then perhaps, during this Holy Week you have read Pope Leo XIV’s directive. “Leading up to Easter, the Pope’s Lenten message encouraged listening to the cries of the suffering, using “disarmed” language, and building a “civilization of love” (Winnipeg Free Press).

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Knowing Stuff

Somedays I wake knowing stuff I wish I didn’t. Like stingrays. Did you know they nestle into the sand along the coastal waters of Southern California? That’s a good spot for them to rest, away from predators, but if you inadvertently step on one, which is more and more common to do, it is indeed a very bad day for you. Most days I really wish I didn’t know these flat creatures lay camouflaged in the very shoreline where I want to splash about. On the other side of this coin of knowledge there’s stuff I’m delighted to know. Like how no matter how old you are, you’ll feel sixteen forever. Dramatic. Emotional. Sometimes silly. Sometimes confident. Sometimes volatile. All of it. Colliding within. In truth there is nothing real about aging, at least not your emotional being, not in anyway important to who you are inside. That creative and wild and impulsive and kooky and misstepping and driven girl is here to stay. That I’m glad to now know for sure.

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