We have helped my super cute love Ming transition from 54 to 55 years old. We did good. Congratulations! You have arrived at the speed limit.
I was singing in the desert to Mother God, a sweet song, Eight Stanzas to Bhavani. It’s in Sanskrit. I’d like to record it for you, but I’m having the allergy attack from heck. I’ll transition from 44 to 45 later this year, if I’m lucky!
Last time, we entered the water. This time we didn’t make it to the river because the sun was intense. We got over-sunned, but that was ok. It was a really good birthday activity. Not a super long time. Fun to talk in the car, as super cute Ming drove.
Something weird is two days ago at the parking lot in Chinatown, I found a marble. Then yesterday in the desert, I found a marble also. Wtf. Two marble days in a row. Weird, huh.
I told my friend. He said people are losing their marbles, and I’m finding them. Sounds about right. Radical mental health is kind of about finding our marbles again, on our own terms. I’d be queen of that.
Also I told him about snacktivities. We were laughing about that too. Sunflower seeds, peas that need to be shelled, this water another friend likes to make with frozen fruit in it, popcorn to pop on the stove. Pistachio nuts, to shell.
My friend said he’s a snacktivist. I said I’m a social popcorn warrior. Popcorn wants to be free.
Yes, when I was a kid, sometimes we had this wooden bowl of nuts on the coffee table, and we would crack then with a silver nutcracking thing. Definitely a snacktivity. There would be two nutcrackers loose in the bowl, and sometimes this pick that I never used–it looked scary.
I remember that feeling of digging in the bowl of nuts to find a nutcracker. The slight rustling sound of the nuts shifting around my hand. A sensory thing, like a little kid diving in a Chuck E Cheese ball pit.
Love could be cracking a nut for someone. My mom would crack an almond and hand one to me. Sweet mama. Almonds were my favorite, I guess, or hers.
I never liked hazelnuts–too musty. But they felt good to touch. Sometimes I would crack a hazelnut for her, and put it in her hand to eat.
I remember that feeling, of my hand nudging her hand. It would open, and I would place the hazelnut in her palm. She would say thank you and eat it. Toddler stuff.
This is how you give–this is how you say thank you. Teaching someone how to do love. I cannot save you, but I can feed you, definitely.