I’m a social worker, writing for my life in a time of unprecedented darkness.

I’m almost 50 years old. I’ve experienced some tough stuff, as we all have. Through all my traumas and losses, creativity has sustained me. It’s been a way of reorienting myself when everything goes wonky and terrifying.

Right now, I feel like no amount of art, writing, or counseling from me can counter the insanity gripping this country. I’ve been a social worker for much less time than I’ve been a writer and artist. But it’s the same feeling—can my efforts save anyone from this greed and inhumanity?

I used to think I could make a difference. Not anymore. At least, not alone I can’t. There’s nothing on this site for you to buy or buy into. Just stuff to read and art to look at. And a vehement plea that you continue to put your own art and words and care into the world. Use them to connect and continue. Continue to help others. Continue to see and make beauty. COLLABORATE. 

There have been dark times before. Art and humanity survived. Sometimes it took to the streets, sometimes it went underground. But it continued. 

Continue, friends. Whether you go out and make a lot of noise, or retreat to quiet spaces because this shit is overwhelming. Continue making and sharing art, telling and hearing stories. Helping others any way you can, asking for help when you need it. Continue. The light won’t return, because it never went away. The light is you. And me. The light is us, continuing together.