Praise Mama. Grok Earth. Thou art Goddess.
Yesterday, I watched the news about Republicans condemning Trump (not all of them), and I felt a combination of relief and exasperation.
“So this is what it takes for the conservative guardians of the status quo to take a stand against racism,” I thought. Nazis! Honest-to-god Nazis. Nazis and a dead woman. Well, Nazis and a dead white woman.
My seasonal allergies mean that at those times of the year I most want to be surrounded by nature, it is difficult, and sometimes impossible, to do so. This irony is a metaphor for an essential conflict at the core of my psyche, between the desire for communion with nature on the one hand and the desire to transcend nature on the other.
The Allergic Pagan 