For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen; a gaseous nebula must collapse. 
So collapse. 
Crumble. 
This is not your destruction. 

This is your birth.

~Zoe Skylar, poet

It is that time of day, that time of the month, that time of year, that time of the decade, that time of a generation, that time of a millenia, that time in history where we have hit the swirls of things in such a way that a seasonal change tipped with atmospheric significance means something to many looking for the grounding/footing of hope/optimism in the face of stark realities, or perhaps just plain and simple purpose/meaning. It is permission to speak of things we find resonate with us in a holy deep down soul-y way.

I am getting used to being alive in a world butterfly-affected for me by the absence of my father, community changes, global realities, and my own inner world dynamic playwriting the acts and scenes of my life.

You know – saying farewell to the season of homemade cherry limeades and such where pithy citrus bits find their way into nooks and crannies of a well-loved cutting board. Or coveted dragon fruit juicy juices stains. Or unexpected maple tree saplings thriving where once there was an herb garden. Or witnessing a developing street-cleaning group on our twisty turny rural road. Or SonHerisme beginning his path to driving. Or the lovely masonry repair on the front stoop. Or NiecesHerisme having successfully shipped off to universities. Or the arrival of new bras since my transition into crone phase seems to be sweeping out some of the fluff.

Things are moving in unanticipated and anticipated directions.

Which is to say, I finally went in for a physical and lady exam (thanks Barbie, for the peer pressure to follow-through!). Some things need immediate attention but nothing too dire.

Also I saw a meteor/dying star dramatically zoom to its brilliant death over our heads at the senior night celebratory “pink out” football game this past Friday (nods to Barbie and cancer, I suppose?).

Because life is what it is, we continue to support murder killing fascist authoritarian behaviors, which sucks. One could argue in the past – well, they did not know any better. Well, they were not given the opportunity to evolve or be compassionate. Well, they did not have access to understanding or information to lead to understanding. But, nope. Turns out we are just assholes hell bent on forcing zero sum games whenever and wherever. Good job us! Pat ourselves on the the back! Let me know when we have reached the pinnacle of forcing submission, total control, or obliteration of whatever group of humans we deem unworthy of being human so that I can cheer and applaud you with all of the accolades and applauses I have…

Gen Z is coming for you. Unless you succeed with squashing them with repeated viral infections.

It is apparent to me that it is none of my business to even ask – when is enough, enough? When will we have targeted or murdered enough humans? When will we have removed enough access to health care from enough humans? When will we have burned/ banned enough books/access to information? When will we have dehumanized and other-ed enough humans to satisfy our thirst for ultimate entitlement and control?

In the meantime, I earned $6.40 by recycling metals from my home. I donated adult diapers and used medical equipment to our local Rescue Mission. Like you, I grocery shopped, cooked meals, did laundry, and cleaned the things. I continue to attempt parenting a teen, volunteer in my community, and provide day-to-day 24/7 care to MotherHerisme. I sent my court ordered weekly progress reports #376-#410 as a batch. I meditate and send comfort, peace, and love out to every living thing, with special attention to those suffering or frightened.

I can make some soup and tea for you – and a batch of cookies.

Over and over in my head:
I can be brown, I can be blue, I can be violet sky 
I can be hurtful, I can be purple, I can be anything you like... 

And then a little:
I couldn't figure it out, if you wrote it all down, please write down
How, how do you love me right now?

Plus some:
And I know, its only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him

Rounded out with:
I don't want french fried potatoes, red ripe tomatoes
I'm never satisfied
I want the frim fram sauce with the oss-en-fay with sha fafa on the side.

I guess I am however I am and the world will be as it is. UNICEF, Doctors without Borders, World Central Kitchen donations going out from my house. Trying to allow the feelings to be what they are while pushing out comfort, love, and peace *sigh* I just do not know that there is anything else to be done. Live. Find moments of joy and grace as we can. This is my crumble collapse.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

I’d like to change my irl name and grab a giggle sometime (Whittering Whitehalls, AndieMarie Tillman, Pinky Patel, Yuri Lamasbella, Katherine Ryan… you know, the usuals).

Also, can we please get Colin Farrell or Matthew Goode to quietly record every single audiobook, or even just lists of things or poetry, please and thank you?

Reading: Material World by Ed Conway, Enchantment by Katherine May, The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese, A Darker Shade of Magic by VE Schwab, Theogeny: Works and Days by Hesiod (translation by Hugh G Evelyn-White – how can you NOT read this with a translation by someone with this most awesome name?!!?)