Snippets...

From this past week, a few snippets from my journal... 

Snippet one

When I catch myself judging myself harshly, I say to myself, "Settle Carol. Relax."

I consciously let go in my muscles and through my nervous system.

The judgement might linger, but it doesn't root. 

My legs and arms, feet and hands, toes and fingers, back and spine -- they work so hard, so very hard.

And I thank them. 

Sometimes when I meditate, chills will tingle up my back and in my limbs.

It feels good. 

Snippet two

I am almost at the end of this journal.

I wonder how many journals I've written. 

Maybe I'll count them tomorrow. 

But they are not all in one place. 

Most are on one bookshelf; others are scattered among stacks of books. 

Snippet three

Okay. I'm trying to write for an audience. 

Stop, Carol. Do not write for the audience. Not here, not in your journal.

Snippet four

I'm having anxiety...

May I be free from self-doubt, distrust, and fear. 

May I allow confidence; I've done a lot of things successfully.

May I allow trust. The Universal Spirit and Bestower has always provided; stay open to that. 

May I allow trust. Do what I can and listen; listen to those inner nudges. 

May I allow groundedness. The ground is my friend and has always supported me. 

Snippet five

I am concerned about Hubby's and my preparedness regarding end-of-life stuff.

We do have a will.

The kids have access to our credit union safe deposit box. This year I will update what is in the box.

I have set a goal that I will print all our passwords and codes and delineate accounts that are on auto ship and auto draft so that the kids have easy access to cancel those.

And I will begin and continue to get the house in order. 

I can organize these things. 

Think of all you've done Carol, especially with the ex-therapist fiasco and my defective-hip fiasco. I had to compile lots of paperwork and evidence. And in both cases, I was successful despite my fatigue and weakness and brain stupor. 

I can do this. 

So, settle Carol.

Snippet six

The US and Israel started a war with Iran. It's the crusades all over again. 

Israel supposedly obeys the Old Testament, except for certain parts I guess, like animal sacrifices.

The Old Testament attributes that God commanded his people to annihilate their enemies - men, women, and children - and to take the spoils. 

I've read that radical Islam supports killing the infidels.

I will not join the online fray.

I will pray, take care of what I can, and be a peace pilgrim.

Not peace through war, but peace through prayer(?), peace through forgiveness(?).

Ah, peace through resistance to conform, through care of the earth and her creatures, through stewardship. 

This I can do.

Snippet seven

I met my newly arrived granddaughter today; she is four days old.

Why do I not feel happy?

Am I sad because of the state of the world she is entering?

But Carol, this has always been the state of the world.

Or am I afraid to feel happy, to feel love, because I know it will end?

Everything dies.

I have a banquet of belief options to choose from. 

But to quote the late Evangelical Agnostic folk singer, Todd Snider, "But believing and knowing, those are two different things."

I love you, Granddaughter two. I love you, Granddaughter one. 

Snippet eight

Gazing at the picture of me cradling my 4-day old granddaughter, I felt such deep connection. 

I have felt this before when I cradled my now 20-month-old granddaughter at 2 days old. 

I pray that their little nervous systems learn to regulate.

I pray that they know they are loved, and respected, and never ever alone.

I pray they learn to love themselves with grace and mercy and kindness and gratitude and that that has a ripple effect with all the other ripples.

Snippet nine

I counted my journals.

I've written approximately 43 since October 1998, an average of 1.59 journals per year. 

~*~

Todd Snider passed away on 11/14/25...
But his words live on...

This song was released in 2006...

"Happy New Year, everybody" by Todd Snider

Happy New Year everybody

There's an overweight man with an overweight woman on a sofa watchin' TV

He's yellin' his opinion at the television, she looks up from her food and agrees

They got two bumper stickers on their pickup truck

They keep the pickup parked outside

One sticker says, "What Would Jesus Do?"

The other bumper sticker says, "Power of Pride"

I was thumbin' through the stations on my own television

When I come across a guy on this religious station

Singin' "Somebody's Coming"––he sounded whiter than me somehow, wow

It took me back in time through dwindlin' joy

To when I was such a guilt-ridden Catholic boy

I'm Evangelical Agnostic now

I don't know what we're doin' here

You don't know what were doin' here

Now Christians, don't walk out on me just yet

You know whose name I'll be yellin' as I'm clutchin' my chest

The one my dad told me to and his told him to

And I probably pray as much or more than you do

Believe? Shit, every word I sing

But believin' and knowin', those are two different things

And if you're tryin' to change the way a stranger's life will have to go

I believe this is where I'll wanna stick to what I know

Which is nothin', you know

Nothin' for sure, so

Just chill 'til the next episode

Now back to the lecture at hand

Seems like my neighbor wants to kill what he can't understand

I say we can't just kill what we don't understand

But I turn on my TV and I see that, oh yeah we can

We can and we have since the dawn of man

For countless gods whose only real seeming plan

Was to see to it that clingin' to life was our fate

And you gotta admit, life's pretty great

But, can we deny that it's killin' us?

(I'll be here all week)

Happy New Year, everybody

Happy birthday, Country Joe

I resolve to do like I always do

I ain't hurtin' you, hm-hm-hm-hm

If life is anything it's embarrassin'

A rusty nail through a careless shoe

You can't help but sit around and wonder sometimes

Why there's never anything the nail can do

But think about how unfair it is

That the shoe is always goin' where it's got to, too

If you ain't the dumb kid out runnin' around

You kinda gotta do what you're born to do

Happy New Year, everybody (Hey, happy New Year, everybody) 

Happy birthday, Country Joe (And specifically happy birthday to you, Country Joe)

I resolve to do what I always do

And I only ever make it a day or two

Thoughts from my journal...

Sunday 2/01/2026 = 4

It snowed. Probably 6" - 7." 

I would like to go out in it.

But the experience is not worth the price. 

So, I remember...

Sledding and snow skiing. Snow forts, snowmen. Snowballs, that I would sometimes freeze in the refrigerator freezer. Collecting freshly falling snow to make snow cream. Lying down and making snow angels.

I long for days of clarity. 

From my observation, the state of my fatigue determines the state of my clarity.

What determines the state of my fatigue?

Many factors, I think...

Sleep quality.
Pain level.
Lacking purpose beyond selfcare.
Feeling anxiety, uncertainty, unprepared.

Will I ever feel or be prepared?

Yet am not I preparing by writing out these thoughts?

This is my journal. 

I am free here.

~*~

Monday 2/02/2026 = 14 = 5

I long to be pain free. 

There are times I don't feel pain...

Well, actually the only times I don't feel pain are when I sleep.

And that is an improvement. I seldom feel and get woken up by my pain. (knockonwood to the good fairies)

Are fairies real?

How about the Velveteen Rabbit? 

It became real.

Settle Carol.

Others seldom think of you. And when and if they do, you don't know what they are thinking. You can speculate and make educated guesses.

But why? Why put my energy into that?

I don't want to put my energy there. 

But too often, that is what creeps in and sometimes screams...

And I don't hear praise and goodness.

Instead, I hear criticism, harsh judgment, false accusations, and the derogatory labels that go with them.

Others have lived that too and in far, far worse, worse situations.

I still have my family, a few close friends, a few close acquaintances, and my ever-faithful love -- Nature.

I hope to again be able to commune with Her on Her turf. 

Love strokes...

Bedtime: Monday, 1/12/2026 = 5

How do you feel, my love?

Disturbed, by what is happening in the country, in the world. 

Authoritarianism -- "We're always right (and righteous); and if you disagree with us, you are a traitor." "Our motives are good; yours are evil." "We have the truth; you are brainwashed." 

Thing is, if someone accused me of such, I would probably cower. 

But I wouldn't have to. 

Nor would I have to attack.

I can take the statements apart with neutrality...

Thus began my journaling with ink and paper last night. Strokes across lined pages -- shorthand, cursive, italic. Black ink on white paper. 

The cardboard cover is black, dappled with white spots, and bound with a black-tape binding. "Composition Book" is printed on the front cover. Printed on the inside of the front cardboard cover is a nine-lined, Monday-through-Friday grid. The title printed above the grid states, "CLASS SCHEDULE" 

Printed across each 9.75x7.6-inch page are 25 horizontal blue lines on which to write and a vertical red line down the left side of each page delineating a margin. There are 100 sheets of paper in the journal, totaling 200 pages. I number each page. Next page up? Number 100, a century of days. Haha. I began this particular journal on 10/27/25. 

Printed on the back inside cardboard cover are a variety of small grids that contain a variety of conversion tables. And a multiplication table; I hadn't seen one of those in a while. Printed at the top, "USEFUL INFORMATION." 

On Christmas Day, 2025, my nineteen-month-old granddaughter came knocking on my closed bedroom door calling, "Meemaw. Meemaw." Hubby, who was with Granddaughter on her side of the door, opened the door to let her in with him following. He plopped her up on the king-size mattress and spotted her as she roamed around like a little lion cub, curious and delighted. I set aside my cushioned lap-desk and pen and journal. We then played kisses and peek-a-boo, and we giggled. 

She picks up my ballpoint pen.

I instruct her, "That is Meemaw's pen. It is a tool; it's not a toy." 

She looks at me like she is saying, "Okay. I know what a tool is." 

Son has been remodeling their home for sixish months and is still in process. Granddaughter has heard him say "tool" often, explaining that they aren't play toys. 

But it has a button! How exciting!! She pushes it and the ballpoint comes out. I say, "On." Another push and the ballpoint retreats. I say, "Off." We play this a dozen times as she watches the pen pop out and pop in. 

I show Granddaughter my journal, "This is Meemaw's journal where I write my thoughts." 

She seems curious. I show her how I use the pen to draw and write. I draw a picture of her and print her name under the picture. Then I hand her the journal.

With focus, she turns the pages. Pausing, perusing, like she is studying them. Using the pen, she draws scribblies across some of the pages over my writing. I am fine with that, actually happy. We have journaled together.

Art...

From little hands...

Love strokes...