It has take a long time for me to process the enormity of 2020 and I'm probably still not done yet. The absolute disaster of financial ruin was balanced by overwhelming love, deep introspection and psychonautical adventures (credit for the beautiful terminology goes to my grandson Tristan Siokos - but more about that elsewhere).
My aims and personal, emotional investment in C.A.R.E. is described elsewhere. The fact that it failed because of a global pandemic was devastating. I mean, what bigger sign could there be from the universe that my life's work was not meant to be realized?! Where does one go to from there? During this time it was suggested that maybe I was thinking too small. I shifted my focus to contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and everything. Sorry Doug, I didn't get 42. I got this poem. Here's a page from my journal.
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KarmillaWhy can’t I be pretty and a feminist and a mother and a healer and an activist and an educator and a warrior? Archives
March 2024
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