Yet’ve not tried it but will later this morning, with the relaxed confidence I felt that bitter cold northern morning, January 24, 2011 bundled under warm blankets, lying on a gurney, waiting to be wheeled into +Time.
Suggested to me last evening: left-handed writing for a right-handed person, to let my right-brain express my feelings after all. Something pent up in there, restrained by the left brain that controls my sensibly measured and purposely unoffensive right-hand writing and perhaps also controls typing as fingers trip lightly over the keyboard, holding at bay whoever and whatever it is that I am (you don't know me). The anticipatory feeling for the upcoming therapy is like a pill sitting there that hopefully may heal. I’m afraid it may be terrible, pandora's box of anger, rage, helpless frustration; but I’m going to try it. It may not help relieve the stress, and it is not and never will be time resignedly to unite and come together with evil. but Come Healing of the body, mind, spirit, limb, reason, heart, altar, name. Come Healing of the spirit Come healing of the limb.
At some earlier point I decided, the left brain must have done it as the sensible thing to do, and pressed “revert to draft” is the action available to any blogger, and suspended several blogposts of dismay that I’d posted after November 8, a day that will live in infamy as though the VC barber had shaved my neck some 1970 morning in Danang. Took them down because why risk offending. But then last night someone asked me if the bishop had told me to take them down. No, and a freewill human being, I am an eighty-one year old First Amendment American who can and will say whatever I gardenia well please; and so I put them back online, went to each suspended blogpost and unedited pressed Publish.
Then I came home to 7H from church full of love, friendship, and meatloaf with brown gravy, and watched the ships go by.
DThos+ up here somewhere in +Time+