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Lise Lange's avatar

Once upon a time I fancied myself a writer. I was working three jobs to pay rent in one of our most expensive cities. The pandemic took hold of us and I fled that state. Everyone became a writer. I fell silent. "Just an old white woman with an axe to grind" kept me somewhat isolated and anxious until I understood that the world was paying me no mind. I slipped out of my body of pain (It's only pain) and started living my life as very young once more. It began with the trees reminding me that I have always sheltered in their branches with my book stack, watched their leaves shimmer back and forth in the breeze, and everywhere I wandered was filled with magnificent beauty. Gradually as nature brought me back I started to smile again and say "hello" to fellow hikers. I left my little studio and joined our earthly tribe, as me, the true me, in love with the stars and rain and clouds and birds by the thousands, flowers by the hundreds, and from my wee balcony . . . all of life unfolding with grace, determination, and joy. yeah. I am serious. On the eve of what some are saying will be our end, I find your essay and it all falls into place. Your writing moves me greatly every single time. You are reminiscent of Carl Sagan's :The Pale Blue Dot" and you help me continue-trusting what comes, considering the grandness of it all, the precision of it all, and reclaimng my place where our shared humanity celebrates all the good we embody. I'll put my axe down for a little while and listen to those joyful astronauts once again. I am so glad you are you and you share your writing, and THANK YOU. PEACE, LOVE, AND HAPPINESS ALWAYS.

Mike D's avatar

I needed this today, thank you.

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