good medicine

times are weird (as my friend chelsea wrote in her blog post tonight) and hard things seem to be happening all over the place.  a violence unspeakable in norway, under some blind guise of rhetoric and revolution. young men and women who should be strong and vibrant dying of drug overdoses and there are days in my town where everywhere i look my eyes fall upon a toothless tweaked out druggie or a homeless couple with their scraggly dogs or the crazy dude in reflector vest stomping along the street and yelling, shaking fists at cars going by. or a bumper sticker of a crosshairs with the words "this is my peace sign." someone called the bookstore looking for a copy of the anarchist cookbook. i don't want to feel nervous or tired, or sad. i don't want all this to turn my stomach or put knots in my muscles or frowns on our faces.



i want to be bright with july's generous sun. i want to learn all day long and to make up games and skip and play with kids and swim.

and so by way of antidote, here are things that save:

babysitting friends' babies:

kittens (joey and emily's new girl fern):

making movies with our friends:

swimming pool photo shoot with the girls:

Nancy's new bookstore dog, the sweetest rescue lab on earth, Abbie:

zack and rebecca moved back to town! and zack has a new art studio on main street:

 laughter:

riotous flowers and colorful paper lanterns:

rescuing baby quails:

"nothin left to do but smile smile smile."

carry jars of yarrow. love your loved ones with a fierceness and a joy that splits the body. be sure-footed and adept. give your cheeks the sun's blessing. eat coconut gelato. tell your secrets, bare your skin and soul at once. pet cats. clamber on rocks. "dip him in the river who loves water."