A Congress of Baboons


Sit with the silence of winter and hear, even as things freeze, that things still change in that state.


Today is my first appointment of 2019 with my psych doc. I don’t have anything nifty to say to him (or to this space actually.) I wrote something else about Bipolar Dispatches being four or five years old now but it didn’t fit. I don’t need to take stock.

But I’m walking into 2019 with new stuff for myself.

Renewal isn’t earned. You can’t win at it. It is inevitable until it isn’t and even then there’s a transition that’s inevitable too.

Our bodies are our brains and our brains are our bodies.

And a gathering of baboons is aptly named a Congress.

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