Not Lyme

No, not Lyme. It was a nice thought though.

being amphibious

I wonder sometimes, if I allow myself to sink into this quiet world where overstimulation is to be avoided, and communication depends on a true ability to live in the moment...will I be there forever? Will that become my permanent world? But I trust that it is a groundless fear. I should be able to segue, like an amphibian living half in the water, half on land. Both worlds have their particular beauty and a healthy creature, designed for such, can interface with either.

At times I’ve thought about what I would do if I were in jail. Just a plain, dank, standard jail cell. Colorless. Not much, it would seem, to offer. What would I do? But most jails--at least around here--have a library, have ways to access learning, and have people to interact with. One can write, one can study. There is never nothing to do. Even if you’ve got no resource to draw on but the creativity of your own mind and a piece of chalk to scratch on the wall with, there are means to create in vivid color.

When you’re bummed, he’s bummed, and it soon becomes obvious that your entire support network is likewise bummed, it’s time to say, “Cool. We’re all bummed! Time to move on.”
People probably wonder how you can possibly live in hell. But to some people, bugs are hell. To others, shoveling snow is hell. To others, 95°F in the shade is hell. So you say, “It’s not hell. You just plan differently. And do things differently, at different times. And enjoy the heat. Ok?"