Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's much more difficult these days to pull myself into the book I'm reading.  I don't want to read.  Not about Covid 19, any news, but not any fiction either.  It's a fugue state, thinking about my daughter struggling to find meds that ease her pain, about my grandchildren, suffering from the isolation and the tension they feel through their pores, thinking about how my husband and I and our friends are considered expendable by some people in our culture - useless because of our age, and devalued.  Yes I am old, but I want people to care about the value of my life.  My solace is seeing the grandkids now.  I know I am helping them and their parents.  I feel useful.  I have no more idea of what the future holds than the next person, but right now I am alive to help and feel and pray.  That and writing 100 postcards for the election, to beg people to vote.  Not vote a certain way, but just vote.  Take the responsibility our current President will not, and make ours a more compassionate nation, based on the value of all of us, young or old, rich or poor, black or brown or white.