The PTSD of These Irascible Days
The PTSD of These Irascible Days [ I keep a running list of words I like in a Venus fly trap of sorts, my “word trap”, named with a nod to the Trapper Keepers our kids carried in the 80s. My Word Trap these days is a series draft email messages on my phone. It’s a logophile’s mash-up Boozy-Fruit starter, Amish Friendship Bread crock, sourdough starter kit—just keep adding words and phrases, let it ferment. Stir. Take out a little. Share. This poem includes some of my VWI —vocabulary words of interest — found in Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake by Anna Quindlen.] __________ The PTSD of These Irascible Days It’s too late for Pre-TSD, with every cut and threat and whiplash worry; dread drips as from an IV. The pugnacious call the shots their moral regression is infinite. Incontrovertible dastardly deals. Every twist is internecine: both parties devolve, the republic is in rubble, our democracy degrades. What was inchoate in the first months has been steadily pernicious, not subrosa in any way, no shyness or stealth. All corrupt. All excess. All caps. - Mary Louise Peters
✨Love & Light for Today:
“There comes that moment when we finally know what matters and, perhaps more important, what doesn’t, when we see that all the life lessons came not from what we had but from who we loved, and from the failures perhaps more than the successes.”
- Anna Quindlen, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake
What are you finding doesn’t matter in life?
How are you honoring what you are learning?