So this has been a very funky tragic strange set of arbitrary time slices.
that’s all a year is-we’ve decided with our human head that it’s more convenient to divide the invisible stream of time into countable bits.

Take March. I remember a pervasive sense of ill shit rolling down a hill towards me and mine and yours and just about everyone’s I already operate under a cloud of stress.I’m a Black American woman, older, working class, with every bit of the sublime and ridiculous that entails.

Plus I live in Japan, with language skills that leave tons to be desired.
I’m probably going to stay here, since the US health system isn’t made for folks like me. And even with that, I’m trying to work on my health myself, because, of course.

So here’s all of us navigating through the arbitrariness of death, pain, politics, racial reckoning and its pushback, and we somehow believe getting up in the morning and moving forward is mandatory.

It’s not.

Our reactions to the powerlessness of this time is to search, frantically, for places where we can assert our own power.

What would it feel like to just step back, like some Star Wars hero at the tip of a cliff who steps back, holds hands up in surrender, and lets whatever is next simply…happen?