A Long Journey Home

It has been many years since Matthew Shepherd was tied to a fence and left to die in Wyoming .  He was a trusting young man, unable to fight back  against hatred.   His crime was his innocence in reaching out to those who hated those unlike them.  His joy of life was frosted through that bitter night, then silenced.  I am glad his family kept his ashes safe until this resting place in a church in Washington DC could give him a resting place where the chilled winds of bitterness cannot reach him.  A long journey to make, but welcome home, Matthew.

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Finding the Merry in the Maudlin

It’s hard to keep a smile on my face with much of what is going on now in the big blue marble of a world.  Halloween does not delight me as it does children and would-be children.  The colors of the leaves are not bright and interesting this year — global warming?  Children are missing.  People are starving.  However, I saw a production of MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR yesterday where we were all laughing inspite of the angry world.  Shakespeare did not live in the best of times, but he managed to see humor in his existence.

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Belief is Beyond Factual

It is hard to explain to those ready to condemn that belief in a woman who comes out about sexual assault is akin to religious belief.  It transcends tangible evidence.  Usually, unless it is immediately documented, that evidence isn’t there.  The person counts on the love and empathy of others for help, assistance, survival of any trust in the system .

Women know this — or they should.  Men who love these women must know the women.  Love too is based on intangibles.

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The Silent Woman

via The Silent Woman

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The Silent Woman

Silence is not so golden where sexual assault is concerned, so why don’t women speak? Sex is the most personal act….and the most difficult to explain in terms of feelings. Memory is a hard master to those who have been assaulted. It teases and frightens. We are asked what we were wearing, what we drank, whether we had consensual sex with others. In other words we are raped by the questions. When a woman is silent she is not thinking that silence is golden. She is thinking it is a
muzzle that society puts there.

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Goodbye Summer!

I sailed away to Norway to converse with trolls and the shades of Vikings, returning to heat and bugs and suddenly the mystery of flowers opening (and closing) through the long days and star-filled nights.  And now it’s over….the pumpkins are wearing crooked smiles carved into their smooth orange faces.  Where does it go? The birds are less in my garden.  My hopes are downsizing for winter.  It is the same movement of a continuing symphony that is never lost.



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Noah’s Ark Revisited

This summer the hammering you hear may be someone building a boat without a shoreline in sight. It’s been a wet month with waterfalls down the steps to our back garden. While the green is deep, so is the mud and water.  Global warming is one thing, but now we have global storming!  The birds are hard put to catch the floating birdseed in their beaks.  Noah was warmed by wine as he made his own proto-biosphere.  I pour the red wine and look out the window.  We have doves galore without olive branches in their caws.


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