What’s the next thing you’re gonna need to prove to yourself

I spent a not-insignificant amount of time tonight lost in my email inbox, reading through old correspondences from January 2014. It was…weird. And now it’s 3am! At another time in my life I probably would have written more about the experience – named names – but these days I feel more comfortable sourcing witchy home remedies for vaginal discomfort on my blog than I do airing all my Feelings about old friends, lovers, feuds, weird premonitions that were truer than any of us ever could have guessed, etc. A girl’s gotta choose how she overshares, ya know?

I’ve had Ani DiFranco lyrics stuck in my head for the past 24 hours. I keep catching myself humming Your Next Bold Move, wondering how we’ve managed to land back at this point in the cycle of humanity, wondering how we’re gonna get ourselves out of it this time. “Coming of age during the plague / of Reagan and Bush / watching capitalism gun down democracy / it had this funny effect on me / I guess…

Progress is not linear, is a lesson that I keep learning over and over. I see it in my personal life, I see it in my body and its abilities, I see it in our country and our democracy and our political arena. At first I wrote “time is not linear” to begin this paragraph but then I thought, wait, that’s not right, it is, isn’t it, but actually I’m not sure it is. I know for certain that progress is not linear though so that seems like a safer sentence to lead with. We’ll get to the tricky stuff another time.

I was texting with a friend last week and we were talking about life being cyclical and long. We weren’t being very profound but here’s what we said:

Me: Never stop learning, I always say

Her: Yes life is a highway

Me: Yes a long one

Me again: Circular also

Her: Mhm just stars

The old dykes in Southern Oregon taught me that life is long. Whenever I complained about anything personal – and I had a lot of personal things to complain about the summer of 2014! – they’d just hold my hand or shake their heads or laugh and then tell me that life is long. Their words were always kind – I never felt insulted or like they weren’t taking me seriously or trying to be hurtful. They had just heard it all before. And they were right.

Life is long! How aggravating. How enchanting. How simply true.

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