I could not write in July, hypnotized as I was by the fire and water inundating the world. Perhaps hypnotized is not the word I am looking for. Paralyzed, maybe? Struck dumb by the folly and corruption of it all. What good are my lamentations? What strength in my small voice? I could not write in July because my soul knew only eulogies for murdered Indigenous leaders in the Amazon and those being arrested in Vancouver, and the Old Growth forests and the watersheds and the lives and cultures they are defending. What does one write as yet again warnings about the Gulf Stream go unheeded—as our leaders sign away the air and the water, label activism terrorism, persecute journalists and torch the world for the sake of profit?
I FINALLY SIGNED IN SO THAT I CAN WRITE...HOW VERY POIGNANT THIS LAST EPISODE!!! YOUR "LETTERS" STIR ME AND AFTER OUR LAST TALK I TAKE THEM AND MYSELF INTO THE VASTNESS WITHIN....MUCH LOVE JERI
I FINALLY SIGNED IN SO THAT I CAN WRITE...HOW VERY POIGNANT THIS LAST EPISODE!!! YOUR "LETTERS" STIR ME AND AFTER OUR LAST TALK I TAKE THEM AND MYSELF INTO THE VASTNESS WITHIN....MUCH LOVE JERI