Somebody who loves writing rarely feels "speechless", but over the last 24 hours, I cannot find words to express anything that we are seeing in front of our eyes.
Adding to the surreality of it all is the fact that I was away for two days with virtually no access to news, so there was the sense of having perhaps fallen asleep for a long period of time, like Rip van Winkle, and having woken up in a completely strange new world, reflecting values so far from my own that...well, I was about to say "I won't be able to function", but that has been the case for decades, so what else is new? Still, we find ourselves in a whole higher realm of non-sense, that is for sure.
What will keep me going is the fact that there is only one path forward no matter what -- Love. Genuine love. I suppose that I am more convinced of that now than ever.
The other night, I woke up at 3 AM, and decided to read. Believe it or not, I am for the first time reading Women Who Run With the Wolves (Clarissa Pinkola Estes). "Believe it or not" number two? I wasn't two pages further in the book when my ears picked up what initially sounded like distant music, but I realized was the sound of coyotes howling out near the frigid woods. (I just learned that coyotes are also called "brush wolves".) I don't believe in coincidences, and I guess this is the message I take from it: the powers -- superpowers -- that I claimed the other day (loving, having intuition, feeding, nurturing, giving birth, creating music, art and harmony, etc.) are women's "wild" inheritance. Just by being ourselves right now, we are wild. We are wild and authentic, and valid in a way we aren't seeing in the "powers-that-be". I need to be what I want to see.
