There are going to be dry patches in this period of history where one wakes up in the morning and it feels like there is nothing left to say. This wordless writer read about Andrea Gibson, a poet, this morning who recently died at the age of 49. She didn’t run out of words even in the face of cancer because as a poet her words were horses racing for the the sun even when she had faced her own mortality. What has this to do with good decisions. We are in a dry patch and need to find a new summer fall pasture to grow into the next phase of resistance. So, if this is a poet you don’t know . . .well here is a link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCX-0zJTEbk

This poem was about the thin space of the Chemo Room. I spent some time in an infusion room following a serious illness that could have been mortal. Maybe some of the readers here will also have done the same thing. Some of this project’s readers might be a touch offended by this poets clear unapologetic expression, but when a person gets this much emotion and feeling out into the world without expletive or hatred, then her words for I don’t have the words for in a dry patch just might be the best I can do this Sunday. 

A Modest Proposal for Good

You don’t have to be Andrea Gibson or even agree with how she turned out in her life time. You don’t have to share her politics, but the infusion and chemo rooms of this world have a unique lesson to teach anyone of us as we navigate life inside bodies that eventually must lay down and set us free. And even as you read the papers this morning it might just feel better to concentrate on what matters, then on the petty and major crimes of governance in today’s distracted world. I’m off to Ghost Ranch in New Mexico is AM for a couple of weeks to concentrate on what actually matters so I can continue to resist what must be resisted.