Tuesday, November 29, 2016

My Mom's Protection Oil

I went to my Mother's house today to help her & my Step-Dad with a couple of things, like taking out the trash and moving some stuff around the garage.

As I was leaving, she took me aside and slipped me a small bottle of a strange, viscous liquid.

She told me that it was my own personal version of her protection oil, designed to keep me from being attacked while I am working.

I asked her what she thought would be attacking me at work, and she shrugged & said, as if explaining something obvious to an idiot, "Demons, people, spells."

She told me to dab this stuff on my Adam's apple, the back of my neck, and on the insides of both my wrists before entering my workplace.

I asked her what was in it, and she told me she couldn't say because that would take away its power. I uncapped it & took a sniff. It smelled like a mixture of mothballs & soy sauce.

"And don't share it with anyone," my mother warned me. "It only works for you, but only if you keep it for yourself."

I assured her that I wouldn't let anyone else use it. 

And then I thanked her, because what else do you do when your Mom offers to protect you from demons?

Thursday, November 24, 2016


What I'm grateful for is all of you.

There's no way to make this sound less trite, but it's the truth: you're what matters. All of you.

And it's a pleasure & a privilege to be connected to you.

I care little for gadgets & baubles. Stuff is just a means to an end. What's important is communion. We're in this together, and we need each to get anything done. This fact is both necessary, and, I think, good.

So whether we are close or distant, whether we agree or not, whether we have affection for each other or irritate each other, I thank you. I am grateful for whatever connection we have.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Be well.