I’ve been feeling pretty bummed out. I’m also tired — a weekend of dancing, long drive to see my therapist, second long drive to see a body-worker and visit a good friend — I still haven’t put my house back in order. What’s got me down is the oil slick. The news just keeps getting worse. My friend Beverly told me that they’ve dumped a lot of some chemical called a “dispersant” not so much to help things, its intention is to keep the oil from reaching the surface. But it’s probably creating an even more toxic environment for the creatures in the gulf. Great. So we’re going to make things more toxic in order to pretend that what has happened isn’t as bad as we thought. By this time I would have plunged down into depression, except for two gifts from friends.
First, my friend Beverly Woods wrote a song about the disaster. She sang it to me, and it helped give shape to my grief and rage. Beverly’s song
Second, my friend Bobbi Bailin choreographed a powerful dance to a piece of music called “Salve”. It’s sung in Latin, and I don’t recognize the words, although I believe “salve” means “save us”, and it certainly feels like a strong call to the Divine for help. Bobbi’s dance
In times of disaster, communities around the world have kept their spirits up by singing and dancing. For me it’s a way to hold steady, neither going numb, nor going under. Thank you, my friends.