A peaceful woman’s rage

Today I rage.

I’ll turn 70 on my next birthday if I’m meant to see November 2020.

Disclaimer alert.

I’m programmed for rage. Eye-rolling, impatient, snap judgements. I’ve softened over time. I’m a student on a path that points toward a simpler and truer understanding of life and its doings. Living from this place has changed everything — for the better.

And sometimes the wise and wizened crone rises up in me and shouts and screams her rage at what she sees.

You too?

Listen to her and consider the direction your steps are taking.

I have moments of crystal clear rage.

I’ve watched the increase of dark imaginings manifested. From Columbine. Or was it Waco? Or Kent State? Too many too many too many.

I wonder if this Dystopia2020 is immersion in violent video games coming to life. (I’ve wondered this for decades now.)

Something’s unleashed. Racist. Opportunist. Arrogant.

I renounce the membership in this dystopia that the color of my skin affords me. I ref*ckingnounce it.

Like men of color chased and gunned down live. Ahmaud Arbery. Sean Reed.

Wake the f*ck up, people! Look where you’re headed.

I don’t want to live in the world this video game-consciousness is producing.

I encourage and guide women in the third third of life to be inspired, in flow, and fully expressed despite social norms and the realities of aging.