R's rue

Thinking back to the last general election in Britain. This is what I wrote on December 13th 2019. To me it was an extremely depressing moment in history as the charlatan Boris Johnson got the keys to Downing Street and became our prime minister with a strong majority... Tonight I am feeling as low as I felt that night in 1979 when Thatcher grabbed the keys to 10 Downing Street. This time the British electorate have apparently given their support to Johnson and his baying Tory mob. I am looking at television and the writing is already on the wall. The Conservative Party is about to enjoy a solid majority in The Houses of Parliament. They will be gloating and guffawing as only Tories can gloat and guffaw. How on earth could British voters have allowed themselves to be fooled like this? I shake my head in despair. Five years of Johnson ahead and no chance whatsoever of returning to the European fold. That ship has already left the wharf. I spent Thursday working at one of our loc...

 God, I took rest for granted until it’s the only thing that would fix the problem. Sometimes trying to fit into the box is more harmful than anticipated. I actually attempted to meditate. Lasted five minutes. Letting my breath be the only thing I hear was more challenging. Being still with myself was harder than I thought. I did it. Pumping the brakes is what I need. Not what I’d want. Needs are eclipsing wants these days. It’s a wonder anxiety lifts when we listen to what our bodies are not so silently telling us.  Eating a slice of thin crust supreme pizza, reading a good book or checking out a good sale is bringing me joy today. Joy isn’t manufactured. It’s created in the moments we don’t realize are special. Fairy tales are nice, but reality is where I reside. It’s in the dog’s whimpers and cries to go explore. It’s in the country song that rattles my cage. Those lyrics are too darn true for my liking. It’s in my two dollar Old Navy flip flops covered in grass stains al...