We’re at the point where the American dystopia is so real and so raw that it’s as if this country’s core uglinesss is erupting inside my guts–which of course it is, me being the literal Crapicorn that I am.
Really, it is living inside all of us.
White supremacy is and always has been terrorism. Not recognizing this means you have blinded yourself because it suits you. Because you think your part is greater than the whole. And because—g-d help us—it is the American way.
Last night Mercury went retrograde in the sign of Leo. Though I normally welcome the respite Mercury retrogrades offer from today’s unhealthy deluge of fast-food technology, this one intersects explosively with Mars and the upcoming solar eclipse, and takes place mostly in anal-retentive Virgo, which goes nuts if anything veers off course. What does this all mean? That anger–its roots, its manifestations–is the hot topic for the next month. And it’s August, so all the shrinks are on vacation.
The best I could do yesterday was drink ginger tea and change my sheets and watch Almodóvar movies–Sobre de Mi Madre felt most right because I’m calling on the divine mama in everything. Also I read the clearest, most compassionate books I could find. Some by Anne Lamott. Some about Ramona Quimby. (We’re so lucky Beverly Clearly is still alive at 101.) Some by my permakitten, who writes volumes with her slow, green blinks.
Today I will rise, I really will. I will go to Middle Church and rail and rally with beautiful re-sisters. I will do 
as Annie says, and help some hearts, maybe even my own.
I pray this solar eclipse helps us raise a new way from the ashes of entitlement and hatred, greed and willful ignorance. I pray for our brave cousins fighting the good fight in Virginia and everywhere. I pray that we unplug from old systems and light a new path using the elements of this season: salt, sky, fire.
I bless any heart open enough to receive–recognize, even–light and love.